Wow. When I said I was thinking about starting to write fanfic again, I didn't expect to be inspired so quickly! Then again, it's inspiration for a Box Ghost introspection drabble. You take what you can get, I guess. Crit would be much appreciated, but please be at least a little gentle—this is my first foray into the world of fanfiction in four years, and I'd like to keep the illusion that I've improved some.
Obligatory disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom and the characters thereof. That honor belongs to Butch Hartman.
There's something about cubes, he reflected, sulking over his imprisonment in the hated cylinder. The faultless symmetry, the glorious straightness, the sense that all is perfect and right and the comforting order of it all…
And then there are boxes. Boxes are cubes with personality. There's no telling what interesting things might be found in a box, nor what neat stories a box might have to offer. Let Technus keep his shiny, soulless metal toys. Sooner or later, everything finds its way into a box.
What indignity, to find himself crammed in such an imperfect container! The rounded, dull steel of its sides could never match the character of even the lowliest of boxes! How offensive the cold, metal, lifeless interior was, how confining, how utterly wretched!
Freed from the hated canister, he quickly returned to his usual form, and shouted his obligatory 'Beware!' before fleeing his halfa nemesis. Discovering a pile of unattended crates in an unloved warehouse, he buried himself in them. He was content.