Little Miracles

Bloody Hell

  “Where are we going?” such a question is often prompted when one is not aware of their destination, in many instances the said person is also unaware of their current position. Therefore the question is one of uncertainty and helplessness, sometimes even of fear.

 The way Sarah said the question it sounded like a statement, verging on a threat.

 “The Evil One likes to cause maximum chaos,” replied Pax unfazed as he walked into the furniture display section of IKEA, “So he’ll be in the storage area sabotaging our most popular piece of furniture.” As he said this he reached into his pocket, extracting a crinkled piece of paper. “This is a list of our most popular pieces of furniture, written up by Faisal”

 He handed the list back to Sarah as he walked, commanding “Read out the list to me.”

 “Why can’t you read it yourself?” demanded Sarah, snatching the list from Pax’s bony grasp.

 “I can’t walk and talk and think and read, I’m not…” Pax flailed for an appropriate word, “Jesus.” He concluded.

 “Yes and clearly what was so special about Jesus wasn’t all the miracles or the rising from the dead but his ability to multi task.” Sneered Sarah, each syllable dripping with sarcasm. “Anyway what difference does it make whose reading the list, I’m already multi tasking as much as you.”

 “No you’re not” smirked Pax, “I’m walking and talking and thinking. You’re just walking and talking.”

 “You’re saying I don’t think!” raged Sarah, “Well how about this, I THINK that you’re an idiot, I THINK that you’re useless and I THINK that you’re an utter bast…”

 “Do you want to help finding the Evil One or not?” cut in Pax.

 Sarah let out a frustrated sigh but she nonetheless unfurled the crumpled note and began to read Faisal’s worm like handwriting.

 “The most popular furniture is…” muttered Sarah, squinting as she attempted to discern the writing whilst keeping an eye out for where she was walking, “Furniture number twenty two.”

 “That can’t be right,” sighed Pax, “furniture number twenty two was the failed self self assembly furniture.”

 “What was it exactly?” questioned Sarah.

 “The self self assembly furniture came with a robotic computer that would assemble the self assembly furniture for the customer. So the lazy sod of a customer wouldn’t have to do any of the furniture assembling himself.”

 “Sounds good,” remarked Sarah, “Why didn’t it sell?”

 “Well, the customers needed to assemble the robotic computer.,” replied Pax. “Anyway,” he continued, “ Faisal probably meant furniture number forty four, he has an odd tendency to get twos and fours mixed up though I don’t know why.”

 “Maybe he was dropped on his head as a baby.” Suggested Sarah.

 “Somehow I feel that could only have improved things.” Sighed Pax as he came to an abrupt halt in front of a large metal door.

 They had been walking through the furniture display area, making their way through one idealistic model room to another. Each model room, of about foursquare meters, was filled with well-coordinated IKEA furniture. The displays were arranged in such away that would make any furniture enthusiast drool with sofa seduction, light-stand lust, pinewood passion, armchair arousal and ornamental orgasm.

 It was between a vivid and colorful room which grabbed the eye and a minimalist room that was humble yet mighty, that the metal door sat. There were plenty of details, such as the large bolts drilled into its dull grey surface or the rusted yellow staff only sign, that could be mentioned about the door but to summarize it in one word, it was ominous.