if you don't like horribly bad puns, run away now.

Otherwise, hang on tight and let me know if you get it.

Once upon a time in a far away land there was a small mining town. The citizens toiled long and hard to wrest a living from the riches hidden deep underground. Please don't confuse this type of mining with the happy-go-lucky digging performed by Snow White's dwarves; this was dirty dangerous work that only desperate locals with no future would sign up for.

One particularly dangerous mine produced huge amounts of clay. Miners harvested the wonderfully valuable mineral, packed it into boxes, and shipped it off to more enlightened parts of the world, where it was fashioned into pots and sold to upwardly mobile tourists. The most dangerous part of the process was the packing machine (the machine was powered by dragon's breath, so technically this is still a fairy tale). Many a hapless machine operator lost focus and paid a heavy price for it. Day after day, the packing machine produced box after box of raw material. Day after day, the injuries mounted.

One tragic day the entire shift of packing machine operators was sucked into the mechanism (the dragon was not involved, honestly). Box after box of horribly mangled miner/clay was churned out before Homer the Safety Officer could shut down the mechanism. The townsfolk were horrified. They dearly wanted to provide a dignified burial for each of their fallen comrades, but no one could identify the remains. Finally a forensic scientist was brought in from the neighboring town (he rode in on a dragon if it makes you feel any better) to assist the heartbroken families. The scientist used scientific techniques to scientifically determine the contents of each tragic box. Each fallen miner was given a proper funeral and burial. The dragon lived happily ever after.

The moral of the story: It takes a really smart person to solve a cubic rubes puzzle.