Brad Saunders never sought power. By all accounts, the unassuming logistics consultant and father of two was content to toil in a habitual station of abject obedience. But all that changed the moment he took hold of a 20-by-24-inch corrugated cardboard shipping box and collapsed it, sending shockwaves throughout his block and tasting true power for the first time in his otherwise unassuming existence.
The man bellowed guttural, almost beastly roars that could be heard as far as 20 feet away from the trash bins aside his garage where he stood. It was the world’s first glimpse into the volcanic, megalomaniac fissure that opened in Saunders as he expressed the unstoppable desire to bend and reshape the box to meet his unrelenting will.
“Not this time,” he stated with an arrogant snort as he thrust the box into the recycling bin.
Clare Mercer, who observed Saunders’ raw demonstration of brute force while walking her dog, described the manner in which her neighbor punched the box, severing tape from flap with bare sinew, remaking the container in his own twisted design. But even after the box was compressed and flattened, this suburban übermensch was not finished.
“There was a fearsome crack as he took the box and just hammered it,” Mercer said, a tremble of awe in her voice. “Honestly, it frightened me a little, but I also found it magnetic. It made me want to follow him into battle, to storm the gates of hell.”
Having decimated the box, the rogue demigod slammed the recycling-bin lid closed with a newfound and commanding strength. He then shuffled back home and reportedly asked his wife what else she needed him to do.
