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A great deal of stories are preceded by dark, stormy nights.

And so, it came to pass that as a priest made his way home one particularly dark and stormy night, a box beckons to him.

He walks backwards a few feet in the torrential downpour to come stand directly in front of the box. Being that the alley is illuminated by nothing but a loudly buzzing, constantly flickering neon sign three stories above, he doesn't see much of what's inside but a pair of fidgeting red shoes.

The priest leans closer. "Hullo."

"Hi! Do you have any aspirin on you?"

He feels around in his pants' pocket for the off-brand painkillers he's always kept handy and says "You should probably run indoors."

Then, a flash of lightning reveals another bright splash of red on the box man's legs, and his backpack meows loudly. If the rain weren't washing everything away, the air right now would smell strongly of copper.

The priest's hand stills immediately, and he mutters "Oh."