Guess

Dr. Phantasm wrote down another item on the blackboard list, his fingers covered in chalky dust, his eyes haggard. It's been seven days since the mysterious box arrived at his doorstop, and he's spent every waking moment trying to predict what could be inside. At first, it was just an idle exercise in conjecture, but as he ruled out most innocuous explanations, the ones that remained were too surreal or too threatening for him to simply open the box. Was this some scheme from one of his many nemeses? A message from a distant civilization? He couldn't even pin down whether the box was organic or not, the leathery exterior of the cube proving inconclusive. It could just be some bizarre visitor, increasingly confused at his tests. It may befriend him. Or it may eat him. No, more tests are needed.

Meanwhile, Baron Gauntlet swiped a lollipop from a baby in full view of a police officer. As he walked by the shaking, terrified cop, he briefly wondered what could be preventing his arch nemesis from stopping his spree of high and low felonies and misdemeanors. He makes plans to stop by the Phantasm Dome the next day to make sure he's well, right after robbing a bank and busking without a license.