The sliding glass doors of the vast IKEA store opened with a mechanical whoosh, letting Jervis Tetch and Jonathan Crane step into the fluorescent-lit labyrinth. Jervis adjusted his top hat, peering around at the towering shelves and bright displays with childlike wonder.
"Quite the maze, wouldn't you say, Jonathan?" he said, his voice dripping with excitement.
"It's just a furniture store, Jervis," Jonathan replied, already regretting his decision to accompany his eccentric husband on this escapade. He tucked his hands into his coat pockets, scanning the store with his usual stoic demeanor.
They had come to IKEA for a singular purpose: a bookshelf for Jervis' collection of Lewis Carroll first editions. But Jervis, ever the wanderer, had other ideas.
"Look, Jonathan! A chair shaped like an egg! Isn't that delightfully peculiar?" Jervis spun on his heels, pointing at an avant-garde armchair.
Jonathan sighed. "Focus, Jervis. Bookshelf. Aisle 19."
But Jervis was already off, darting through the store like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole. Jonathan groaned and followed, his long coat swishing behind him as he navigated the carefully curated chaos of the IKEA showroom.
As they ventured deeper, the store's layout began to feel increasingly… disorienting. Every corner seemed to lead to another perfectly styled room or display, and Jonathan's carefully calculated internal map began to falter.
"Jervis," he called out, his voice tinged with irritation. "Where did you go?"
"Over here, my dear Scarecrow!" came Jervis' voice, muffled and distant. Jonathan turned, but Jervis was nowhere in sight. Instead, he found himself in a bewildering array of faux kitchens, each one identical to the last.
Meanwhile, Jervis had found a display of teacups and saucers and was arranging them into an elaborate tea party on one of the sample tables. "A touch of whimsy in this otherwise dreadfully mundane place," he muttered to himself.
Unbeknownst to Jervis, Jonathan had wandered into the lighting section. The dazzling array of lamps, chandeliers, and glowing orbs cast eerie shadows on the walls, and Jonathan couldn't shake the feeling that the store was closing in on him.
He pulled out his phone, only to find it had no signal. Typical. He muttered curses under his breath and marched onward, determined to find Jervis and escape this consumerist purgatory.
Eventually, Jonathan stumbled into the children's section, where a peculiar display of oversized stuffed animals caught his eye. A giant snake, its coiled form almost lifelike, seemed to mock him. "This place is a nightmare," he muttered.
"Jonathan!" Jervis' voice rang out, and Jonathan turned to see his husband standing triumphantly atop a bed display, holding a bright yellow umbrella like a scepter.
"There you are!" Jonathan snapped, storming over. "I told you to stick with me."
"But look, Jonathan," Jervis said, unfazed by his husband's irritation. "This bedspread! Doesn't it remind you of the crocus fields we saw in Switzerland?"
Jonathan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Jervis, we are lost in IKEA."
"Lost?" Jervis hopped down from the bed. "Oh, nonsense! It's merely a journey, my dear! An adventure! Why, the White Rabbit himself couldn't have planned a better diversion!"
Jonathan shot him a withering look but couldn't suppress a faint smirk. "Adventure or not, we need to find the exit."
Together, they wove their way through the endless maze of flat-pack furniture, tiny pencils, and Swedish meatball advertisements. Along the way, Jervis insisted on stopping to examine various curiosities—a rug with an intricate labyrinth pattern, a clock shaped like a sunflower, and a mirror that Jervis swore made him look taller.
Finally, after what felt like hours, they stumbled into the warehouse section. Jervis let out a triumphant laugh. "See, Jonathan? I told you we'd find our way!"
Jonathan shook his head. "You're impossible."
With the bookshelf finally located, they made their way to the checkout line. Jervis hummed a jaunty tune, entirely unbothered by the ordeal.
As they exited the store, Jonathan glanced back at the sprawling building. "Next time, we're ordering online."
Jervis chuckled, looping his arm through Jonathan's. "Where's the fun in that, my dear? Now, how about some tea and a plate of those delightful Swedish meatballs?"
Jonathan sighed but couldn't help the ghost of a smile creeping onto his face. "Fine. But you're carrying the bookshelf."