That adds another level of creepiness to being turned into a Jack in the Box a la “It’s A Good Life.”
What does a jack-in-the-box do while in the box? Don’t you get bored?
What kind of porn do you enjoy, and what is the name of the porn type that you and your people star in?
Not sure what he’ll say, but I’m assuming it’s going to end in some sort of pop. 
How come there are no Jill-In-The-Boxs?
I’m thinking the answers to these two questions will be related.
If there are any answers. :: taps foot impatiently ::
Hey, somebody forgot to wind up Inigo again!
Quick! Someone dig up Domingo! That’ll really wind him up.
Wouldn’t the female be “Jackie in the Box?”
Uh, yeah, I’d like two tacos, an Ultimate Cheeseburger, and some spicy curly fries, please? And a large Dr Pepper.
Joe
- dink … da-dink … da-din-ke-ty … dink *
-
SPROIOIOING!! *
Sorry for not getting out sooner, my spring jammed. Damned Chinese steel–things ain’t been right since we stopped getting made in Taiwan.
The dry lube I got at the factory suits just fine. Trouble is the spring itself is a little weak and tends to buckle if I don’t get stuffed in the box just right.
As for the food orders, sorry–I’m not hooked into the restaurant so it may take a while. To be fair, that’s a different sort of JITB. He’s bigger and electronic, but I have it on good authority that his spring is fake–The charlatan doesn’t really pop out of a box.
I’ve had a lot of time to contemplate the lyrics to that tune as I sit idly in my cubicle, gazing at my creepy reflection. I have decided that the monkey and weasel are already one, and that the weasel turning on the monkey will have already happened by the time it does.
I am a Jack, closer to a jester or knave.
A rose is a rose…etc. Having only a spring where my nethers would be it’s sort of a moot point. I suppose some daring lad could make me his Jill if was careful to remove my spring. I can’t figure why he’d do such a thing unless he wanted to screw someone silly.
Jacks-in-boxes often consider masturbating wildly. However, as we lack nethers our time is spent almost entirely with contemplating. It’s very frustrating and lonely. I suppose our relief at seeing a new face when we are released temporarily from inside the box is a bit unsettling for many. At least, I don’t mean to look creepy, I just forget myself.
Every time I get stuffed back in I pray not to end up nose-to-creepy-nose with my reflection. I am deathly afraid of clowns and unfortunately have been painted to look like one. I’m a Jack. A knave for crying out loud. Apparently the Chinese manufacturer doesn’t know the difference.
What happened to Charlie-in-the-box from the Island of Misfit Toys? Is he in rehab?
Charlie in the box came out of the closet in 1978. By Christmas 1979 he was thrown away after getting badly tangled in his own spring. It was never clear if his death was accidental or internally motivated. He was always a little creepy, even by the standards of other JITBs.
You’re too fast for me, Jack.