Rorty: Part 2
By Mark Quinn
“Who is saying that? Come on, show yourself?”
“Christian don’t get angry at me just because your life is duller than a one-euro lightbulb, and you can’t live your dreams.”
Christian jumps off his forklift truck and tries to look through the gaps between the brown towering boxes of new furniture but he can’t see anything.
“Show yourself, I can’t stand people who take the piss and then hide!”
“I’m not hiding Christian. And I would never take the piss, but you and I both know I’m right.”
“Well then, show yourself,” says Christian, still trying to look through the gaps.
“Go to the end of the pallets ending in article number 3436, go on Christian I fucking dare you!”
Christian stops looking through the gaps and a shiver runs down his back because of the responding comment. Slowly he moves towards the end pallets and looks for the article number ending in 3634, but there is nothing there. Christian starts to relax.
“I said 3436 Christian,” says the voice, now softly whispering.
The old forklift truck driver spots the article number and peers around the corner.
“GOTCHA!” Shouts a voice.
Christian falls backwards onto the floor and scrambles backwards on shuffling hands and bottom like a demented crab looking for safety.
Standing on the palletised box, ending in article number 3436, is a wooden spoon but not just any ordinary wooden spoon, a wooden spoon with arms and legs and a face to scare a bodybuilder with…
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