|Escape from IKEA, Registered Trademark
Author: Questionnaire PM
Where better to spend the night than a furniture store? But as anyone knows who has ever ventured past the gates of Småland, one does not simply "exit" IKEA. Will Jonathan and his newfound roommates make it through the checkout counter in one piece?Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Parody/Horror - Words: 873 - Reviews: 1 - Favs: 3 - Follows: 1 - Published: 01-11-12 - id: 2987530
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
[DISCLAIMER: This is a work of parody. I am not affiliated with or authorized by IKEA® in any way. I do not own the IKEA® or related trademarks, which are the property of whatever entity possesses that distinction within the Byzantine network of stichtingen, trusts, and offshore holding companies that is IKEA®. On the other hand, I am also not being paid by IKEA® write this. To any lawyers in the audience, I repeat: This is a joke.]
Jonathan took another gulp of water from his bottle. "Boy, am I glad that's over," he remarked.
"It ain't over till it's over," Mike replied. "We've still got to assemble all the stuff, remember?"
Jonathan rubbed his eyes with both hands. "Ugh, I'm too tired to even think about that now. Let's just get out of this hellhole, okay?" He looked out through the window by their table at the IKEA® Restaurant at the fading rays of the setting sun across the asphalt landscape outside. He groaned silently at the thought that this was the first and last he'd see of the sun all day.
"What are you gonna do Jon, sleep on the floor?" Steven retorted half-seriously. "I mean, classes start on Tuesday, right?"
"I'll figure something out Steve," he said. "I suppose you can spend the whole night screwing your bed together if you want, but me, I've had more than enough IKEA® to last me the whole four years."
A slightly older man with thinning blond hair, returning from the cashier, sat himself down next to the three 18-year-olds with his tray of Swedish meatballs. "Say Jon, what do you hate so much about IKEA® anyway?" He dug into the meatballs with audible delight.
"Easy for you to say, Karl," Mike retorted. "You're the one who goes to IKEA® for fun. Seriously, did you even buy anything?"
"Sheesh, you guys are such philistines," Karl returned with a dismissive hand-wave. "Don't you have any appreciation for beauty? The sleek functionality of the TIVED™ desk lamp? The elegant simplicity of the BJURSTA™ dining table?"
Mike and Steve exchanged a quick glance and stifled chuckle.
"Don't get me wrong Karl," Jon began, "but sometimes I wonder about you… But thanks for the ride, anyway."
"Oh, it was my pleasure, really!" he replied cheerily. "So, what are you guys doing after this?"
"Well," said Jon, "I was just telling Steve how I was gonna go pass out for an hour or twelve."
"How about you two, Steve, Mike?" Karl persisted. "Anything fun going on?"
"Well, you mean, aside from unpacking all of this crap?" Steve answered. "Nothing, really."
"Yeah, we'll probably just play video games or something," Mike continued.
"Hmmm…" Karl munched his meatballs thoughtfully. "In that case… I have an idea. I think you guys could stand to learn a few things about art and design," he said. "So, here's my proposal. You spend the night here, I give you a thousand bucks. Do we have a deal?"
Steve choked on his lingonberry juice. "Wait, what?"
"Allow me to elaborate," the man responded. "This," — he fanned out a stack of thirty $100 bills onto the table — "will be yours. You just have to stay here till opening time tomorrow. That's it."
"Are you, like, crazy or something?" Mike reacted.
"My offer's on the table. It's your call."
Jon stood up and pushed his chair back from the table. "Mind if we, uh, talk amongst ourselves for a minute?"
"Certainly. I'll be waiting."
At that the three young men headed together around the corner, back towards the kitchenwares showroom. As soon as they were out of sight, Steve and Mike burst out laughing.
"Man, that cousin of yours is a riot!" exclaimed Steve.
"Is your whole family this awesome?" Mike quipped.
"He is… eccentric, I'll give you that," Jon answered. "But for some reason he's actually serious about this. So I say, we just make up something about having to study for classes or something, and politely decline so we can get back—"
"Are you kidding?" Steve interrupted. "Of course we have to take it! Three thousand bucks for one night at IKEA®? Who wouldn't?"
"But— I—" Jon stammered.
"I mean, come on Jon," said Mike. "I hate shopping as much as the next dude. But it's not like it's a haunted house or anything. It's a goddamn furniture store. And I don't know about you, but I could really use the money right now."
Jon rubbed his eyebrows nervously. "I suppose… it is a lot of money…"
"At any rate," continued Steve, "you were just gonna sleep on the floor of the dorm tonight anyway, right? Well, there are tons of beds here, we could just use those."
Jon sighed in resignation. He was too tired to contend against the majority any longer. "…I have a feeling I'm going to regret this."
"Nah, dude, lighten up a little! It'll be fun!" Mike put an arm around his shoulder, pushing him along back towards Karl's table. "Besides, what's the worst that could happen?"