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Breaking
#kvam
by nick duhigg
The decadent stench of burnt rubber lingered over a vast stretch of harsh desert
highway, as a lone black car sizzled its way through the barren landscape
surrounding it. The roads were completely devoid of other traffic; anyone worth
their while had already arrived at the biggest thing to hit Albuquerque since ‘The
Blue Stuff.’ Now the junkies were getting a taste of ‘The Blue Box.’
Walter clenched the steering wheel tighter, rounding another corner like a man
crazed. In his mind, this new menace was clearly employing the time-honoured
tradition of hiding in plain sight. “Don’t you see, Jesse?” Walter demanded,
“They’re using the guise of home furnishings to manufacture a new product right
under our noses. And to make it more duplicitous, that façade is getting the
buyers to come to them.” Jesse, holding himself cautiously in his seat tried to
reason with Walter:
“Yo! I keep telling you, Mr. White, IKEA just sells furniture. They’re not
trying to muscle in on your territory—unless you’re considering cooking up blue
hotdogs.” But Jesse’s protestations fell on deaf ears. Walter knew better—that

2. 2
beneath the guise of coffee tables and TV benches lay the seedy underbelly of
someone daring to rival his position as the meth kingpin of the south.
Walter wrenched the wheel sharply to the right and they skidded suddenly into
the IKEA parking lot, narrowly missing a couple that was awkwardly guiding their
box-laden trolley through the maze of cars. “Look at that: those two have a
mountain of the product just on their own! I feel sorry for them though—you
know it will be of inferior purity.”
“Yeah, because like I keep telling you, Mr. White—it’s furniture.”
“Oh, don’t be so naïve, Jesse. Come on, let’s go and show them who’s boss.
Make them know that I am the danger.”
“What are you gonna do—throw your tighty-whities at them?” Jesse replied.
“Just get out of the car.”
Walter was a picture of determination, his sensible shoes crunching over the
asphalt as he marched for the entrance. By the time he had passed through the
automatic doors he hadn’t even realised that Jesse had remained outside to light
up a cigarette. His momentum interrupted, Walter surveyed his surroundings a
moment while he waited impatiently for his accomplice.
“Yeah, IKEA, bitch!” Jesse announced triumphantly as he sidled in,
customers dispersing quickly around him.
“Will you take this seriously?” Walter demanded, grabbing Jesse by his
oversized shirt.
“Whatever you say, partner.”
“Now let’s talk to this guy—he looks important.” Walter gestured towards a
man directing a horde of people to every route possible.

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“He’s just the greeter, Mr. White.”
“The greeter? That must be a codename. Let’s go.”
Walter put on his game face and walked over to the man dressed in yellow.
“Hello, gentlemen,” the man said. “My name’s Gus. Welcome to IKEA.”
Walter took no time in cutting to the chase.
“You can drop the act. I know what’s going on here,” Walter said. “Just tell
me where you guys are cooking so I can put a stop to it.”
“If you’re looking for the cook-shop, it’s the first section in the market hall,
just through that door over there.”
“So you have a name for it?” Walter inquired.
“For what, sir?”
“For where you do the cooking.”
“No, it’s where we inspire our customers to cook,” Gus said. Walter shot
Jesse a droll look, before returning his attention to Gus.
“So, you’ve got your customers working for you?”
“I’m sorry, sir, I think you may be a little confused.”
“You’ve got that right,” Jesse snickered.
“If you like, I could show you how the cook-shop works?” Gus suggested.
Walter’s brow furrowed and his lips tightened. He studied Gus up and down for a
moment.
“You know, Gus, the last person I knew with that name met with an
unfortunate end. I’d hate for that to happen to you.” Gus looked back in
bewilderment. “And I can assure you,” Walter added, “I do not need you to show
me how the cook-shop works.”

4. 4
“It’s okay, sir. It can be a little confusing,” Gus continued. “But this is all
you need to do: if you see a product you like, either pick it up there or note down
its aisle and location and you can pick it up in the warehouse. It’s really quite
easy.”
“Yeah, you might call it simple science, Mr. White,” Jesse chimed in,
noticing Walter’s temper beginning to exceed breaking point.
“That’s a great way to put it,” Gus added, gesturing to Jesse. “So, if you
head that way it will take you straight to the cook-shop. Oh, but be careful on
your way, there was a spill earlier that we had to mop up. So just make sure you
tread lightly.”
Jesse’s amusement abruptly turned to concern for Gus’s safety. He tried to
grab Walter away from Gus, but Walter resisted his advances.
“Do you know who I am?” Walter asked, with an eerie calmness in his voice
that was coated emphatically in his own ego.
“I’m afraid I don’t, sir. But I love getting to know new people—and I have
this weird knack for guessing people’s occupations. Let me take a stab: you’re a
teacher, right?” Jesse, ceasing his attempt to hold back Walter, couldn’t help but
let out an obnoxious laugh. Walter ignored his taunts and stepped right up to
Gus’s face.
“Well, if you don’t know who I am, Gus, I suggest you tread lightly.” Walter
kept his face mere millimetres from his newest nemesis for a just a few moments,
making sure not to blink. “Let’s go, Jesse.”

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Walter stormed out of the store with Jesse in tow, already concocting a plan to
eliminate his latest threat. Gus turned to a fellow employee who was walking
past.
“Those were the strangest customers. The older guy seemed really angry
about something, and the other one just appeared completely out of it. It was like
they were on meth or something. ”
“Nah,” the other worker replied, “they’d probably just been lost in the store
for a few hours trying to find the exit—you know what that does to people’s
heads…”
“You’re probably right,” Gus replied. “Cover the entrance for me, will you?
I’ve got to go and check on the latest cook.”