• There was a man in a yellow house in a city on some far off and undiscovered continent. He was of a remarkably simple demeanor: his clothes were the standard of clothing among his city; his hair was in the standard of styles for his city. He was not smart, and not stupid, but on the highest edge of the intelligence curve for his city. He took an interest in the mundane things that others enjoyed and worked as an accountant in a large company for his city. In short, he was an incredibly, unnaturally, perfectly average person. His name was Mark.

    Mark received an odd package on his porch one morning. It was a large, cardboard box wrapped up in twine. Having just woken up and discovered it, Mark examined the strange box with confusion. It was dirty and greasy. It smelled unpleasant, as if it had been sitting in garbage. There was a washed out, foreign brand printed on the side. It was bent and taped. The twine was cheap. Who had left it there? Still in his bedclothes and out in the morning air, Mark tapped the package. It felt moist. Strange. He looked for evidence of the mail carrier – none. Stranger. And strangest of all, there was a voice coming from inside the box.

    “Hello! Someone out there?” asked the muffled cry. “Leave my house be! I’m not accepting guests at this hour!” Mark was very confused now. He supposed that, knowing no other manner of divining an explanation for why the box was there, the only logical thing to do was open it. He did so. A pair of flaps opened across the sides to reveal the filthy, smellier interior of the box, riddled with useless odds and ends and garbage. And within the filth, looking up at him, was a handsome, healthy, rich-looking man in a crisp clean black suit.

    “Excuse me,” this man spoke to Mark in an eloquent voice, “But I believe I had told you I was not accepting guests into my home.”
    “But… This is MY home!” Mark replied. “YOU are the one interrupting it in your box.”
    The man in the suit seemed confused for a moment. Then, “… Oh! No, no, not YOUR house, sir, this box is my home! My name is Barnaby Trunkle, by the way,” he added, ”and I was busy reflecting on my good fortune when you went and started tapping on my home.”
    “This box is your house…?” Mark inquired to the odd man looking up at him through the filth.
    “Yes,” Barnaby said, “But, that is not important now! You have ruined my reverie, and…” The man named Barnaby looked Mark over. “Why, sir, who are you now?”
    Mark sheepishly stated his name and profession, knowing not what else to do.
    “Mark, is your name? Well then, I couldn’t help but notice, sir, that you are terribly… Plain.”

    The comment simply struck Mark. It was if he had never truly realized it before. And yet, what this suited man said was so. Mark observed his plain bedclothes, ran his hand through his uninteresting hair, ruminated his mundane hobbies, his unimportant job, glanced back at his small, yellow house in a decent row of similar houses. And in the cold, early morning, Mark suddenly realized that he was terribly unremarkable.
    “I… I guess you’re right…” Mark replied to the stranger in the box.
    “Why, of course I’m right!” Barnaby exclaimed. “Truly you can’t be happy being so simple and useless, sitting behind a desk all day making graphs? Hiding in a bland house and doing bland things?”
    Mark thought for a moment and decided that he wasn't quite completely happy with his life. "But," he argued, "I really am an average man. I would not know what else to do with my life. This is just the way things are."
    "Not so, sir!!" Barnaby Trunkle leapt up from his ratty box. He took Mark by the shoulders; fleetingly, Mark worried for his safety, but Barnaby spoke again:
    "Today, you, sir, are a very lucky man. And this is because I am about to teach you the secrets of my success."

    Again, Mark was confused. "Your success…" he muttered, eying the old box which this stranger had emerged from. "Never mind that thing!" Barnaby congenially smiled. "Look at me, boy! Do you see my suit? The rings upon my finger?" Mark assented he saw them. "Now, from these things upon me, can you not properly deduce that I have been successful in business?"
    "Yes, I suppose that's a logical possibility…"
    "Look here, at my face! It is young, healthy! And can you not logically assume that this is the result of living well and happily?"
    "That could very well be true…"
    "And my voice!" Barnaby cried. "It is pleasurable, well-versed, and unmarred by an iota of slang or lazy vulgarity! Does this not prove to you that I have educated myself well?"
    "Well, yes, that's believable."
    "Well then! From this, you may soundly believe- no, it cannot be argued! You may KNOW that I am a man who has found an excellent life for myself. Would you not enjoy a life such as this for yourself?"

    Mark had been listening to this Barnaby man intently. The stinking box and the cold morning seemed rather far off now. "Well, yes, I guess I would. But…" There was still one thing that did not fit in this for Mark. "Why would you take your time to help a complete stranger such as me?"
    Barnaby Trunkle scoffed. "Isn't it obvious? Isn't it human nature to give alms to those who have none when you have many? I do this out of the kindness of my heart, my boy! Surely you can agree that any advice from a man such as myself could lose you nothing." He turned, and Mark noticed his voice drop slightly. "Of course, if you do not wish to believe me, that is understandable as well. I would never force you into anything." He turned back with the familiar affability in his speech. "And I think you know that I would NEVER lie to you, my friend!"

    Mark was really rather impressed with this man now. He seemed truly sincere in his offers. And his logic was very agreeable. There really WAS nothing to lose. "… All right, I'll take your offer." He said, smiling. "What should I do first?"
    "Excellent!" Barnaby rubbed his hands. "Right then! First, in order to correct you life, son, I must, well, know more about it! Ha! Do you have any personal information on hand? Identity? Just for me to go over."
    Mark thought for a moment, and then ran back into his house. By the time the sun had warmed the morning well into early day, Mark returned with bank accounts, his social security, deeds, and his driver's license, among other things.
    "Yes, yes, this is perfect! Remember, this will be a monumental change in your life, boy. Anything will help! Anything at all!" Mark gave Barnaby his things, and the man looked them over a bit. "Yes… Hmm… I see… Right then!" Barnaby bent back into his box, and procured from within it a large, brown briefcase. Mark noticed a great many papers inside this briefcase, but Barnaby worked with such swiftness that Mark could not identify any of them. "Oh, don't worry about that," Barnaby said. "They'll be perfectly safe, trust me. And I may need to look them over later!" Mark smiled. "All right, I'll trust your word."
    "Ahem! Now that this is out of the way, Let us move to the next step of changing your life forever! According to the papers you have just granted me, you are an accountant at the building five blocks down, yes?" Mark nodded. "Good! Now, that is a terrible job, is it not?" Again, Mark nodded. "Then go down there and quit it."
    "Quit my job??" Mark exclaimed.
    "Yes, of course! You'll never get anywhere staying in such a place, go on and quit it!"

    Mark did as he was told. He boarded a bus (for lack of his driver's license), entered his office complex, passed his cubicle, went right up to his boss and told him that he was sick of the man's leadership and that he was quitting his job immediately. Mark was instructed to leave the building, and that was that.

    Mark returned on the bus, feeling quite invigorated by the whole thing. Barnaby was still in front of his yellow house, and the door was ajar behind him. "Ah! So it is done?" Barnaby asked. Mark replied in the affirmative. "Good then! Now for the next step…" Barnaby gave Mark some of his identification. "Go down to your local bank, remove all of the money, and bring it back to me."
    "That's odd," Mark questioned, "what good will THAT do?"
    "Well, obviously you are no longer working. It will be useful to have all of your money on hand, correct? You are embarking on a life-changing journey, my boy! We'll to gather everything up!"
    Mark said, "When you put it that way, it makes sense." So he went out and did just that. The bank put his money in a bag and handed it to him, and Mark gave the bag to Barnaby.
    "Good, good! Now, we can proceed with the rest of this! I tell you, after we're done, your life will be fantastic! You'll see!"

    Throughout the rest of the day, Barnaby Trunkle gave Mark a great number of instructions and tasks. As Mark went around the city, he gradually, step by step, disassembled his old life, preparing for the new one to come. At first it was exciting, and Mark would complete his work with speed, canceling one account, erasing another document, bringing back information and flyers and all kinds of things to the odd Barnaby man. However, as the day wore on, and the afternoon grew deeper, Mark could not help but feel slightly worried. After all, each move he made destroyed one aspect of the life he knew here, or there, and Mark was not entirely sure what to expect when it was all gone.
    Barnaby gave his reassurances, though. "For," he cried, "it will all be for the better! You shall see when we are done! Your life will be new, and spectacular, and much better!"
    The more tasks Mark was sent on, the stranger they sounded. But Barnaby spoke with a brilliant logic. His voice was comforting. His explanations all made sense. The more Barnaby spoke, the more Mark knew he could trust this strange man who had come to him in the dead of the morning.

    But the night had just begun. Now Barnaby's tasks became strangest of all. He told Mark to shave his head. He said his "bland" appearance was off. Mark did it.
    Barnaby told him to sell all of his clothes for a fresh new suit. He said that a good suit was all you ever needed. Mark did it.
    Barnaby told him to sever all connections with the people he once knew. He claimed that they only served to bring him down, and besides, Mark knew very few people. Mark did it.
    Now it was midnight. The air was very cold. Mark had finally returned from his last task, and all it entailed. He now knew he had no friends. He had no job. He had no money or identity, beyond what was in Barnaby's briefcase. And now, despite all of Barnaby's claims, Mark was not quite certain exactly WHERE he was going anymore. As he came upon his house, he decided to ask Barnaby's advice.

    "So it is all done!" Barnaby exclaimed. "It really has been quite a day, hasn't it?" Barnaby gave his cordial smile. But Mark noticed that the gleam in his eyes had gradually been dulling. "Yes," Mark said. "Yes it has."
    "Well, then, your new life is bound to begin!" Barnaby said.
    "But, Barnaby," Mark asked, hesitantly, "HOW will it begin? You've told me very little, aside from that I should wait and see when the time comes."
    "And so you should!" Barnaby said. "The time is very close now! Your new life will be fantastic, and when it comes, trust me, you shall know!"
    "But WHEN? HOW will I know?" Mark pleaded.
    "Oh, don't worry, you'll know! The opportunity is there!" Barnaby gave a small smile. But it was a different kind of smile. "And, unfortunately, it seems that I have brought you to the last step in this excursion. I can't help you anymore, Mark. You have now seen the secrets to my great success! And very soon, you shall meet your great new life in the same way I have!"
    "I… Will?" Mark questioned. "Yes, you will!" Barnaby replied. "All you must do now is wait. You see my box?" Mark had nearly forgotten the old box that Barnaby had come from. Barnaby's odd smile grew wider. "I had waited myself for the success I have prepared for you in this box. And I found it! Now you, Mark, must take the final step, and wait here in this box! And I would never lie to you, boy, you shall become a great man only if you wait! Just wait!"

    Mark stood there in the night, wearing his crisp, clean black suit. "So… I just wait? In this box? Alright…" Mark walked to the box. "I have nowhere else to go, anyway…" He got in. "Just wait in here?"
    "Yes, yes, yes, just wait, my boy! The time will come! Just wait!" Barnaby's voice was further off. He was walking into Mark's house.
    "Just… Wait in here… On this lawn…"
    And as Barnaby Trunkle closed the door to the yellow house, Mark heard him laugh as he said, "Oh no, you'll have to move it off of the lawn and leave my house be! I'm not accepting guests at this hour!"