Special Investigation: The Bed Delivery Conspiracy, Part One

It was in the darkest hours of the night that I rose, as any good worker does, to sell my labor for the price of survival. The streets were still sticky with spilled lager when I passed the usual pub-exiles stumbling home.

Among them: a local fascist wannabe politician, well known for mistaking screenshots for evidence and bar fights for policy. He was standing still, eyes glazed like a broken streetlamp, until, suddenly, he startled himself awake with the cry:

“Me phone is in me pocket!”

Indeed, out came the phone, and off he went, wandering around the village like a prophet without a prophecy. I followed at a distance. Our movements were synchronized by pure necessity: if the fascist scum are prowling the streets, it is the duty of every comrade to sacrifice even precious sleep to the struggle.

Then, with the ecstasy of a man who has discovered indoor plumbing for the first time, he shouted:

“Ahaaaah! I found it!”

But what had he found? He began circling a delivery truck parked in the square, its sides stamped with the image of a double mattress and the reassuring blue and yellow logo of late-capitalist flat-pack dreams. A bed delivery truck.

Why would such a banal vehicle inspire such delirious revelation? What terrible secret is hidden beneath the freshly shrink-wrapped slats of an IKEA shipment?

I had to get to work. But comrades, you must also understand: the struggle outweighs the sale of one’s labor power. So I leaned closer, and heard fragments of his muttering:

“The bed… it’s the bed… that’s what matters.”

Why the bed? What conspiracy curls beneath the duvet of fascist paranoia?

Stay tuned for Part Two of this special investigation, where the mystery deepens, a terrified IKEA delivery driver enters the scene, and the fascists reveal their Junior Woodchuck-style investigation squad, or as they proudly call themselves: the Furniture Scouts.