Egyptians,” Cyrus said.
“I guess the idea was that the body would stay preserved longer if you wrapped up the guts,” Stuart said.
“Yeah, and in that way the deceased wouldn’t wind up lookin’ like the Judge.”
“I told you to mind your manners,” the Judge said. “I won’t have you talking disrespectfully in the presence of a woman.”
“Who exactly would you be referring to?” Stuart asked.
The Judge looked at the X ray with dewy eyes. “That’s a mighty fine woman,” he said. “Good teeth. A woman should always have good teeth.”
“You sound like you’re buying a horse,” Stuart replied.
Without warning, the Judge spit in his hands and slicked his hair back, then hitched up his pants and began to stagger toward the coffin.
“Judge?” Stuart’s voice was filled with alarm.
“Where you goin’?” Cyrus asked.
The Judge winked over his ectoplasm-covered shoulder. “You boys hurry along and help Frank make some money. I wanna make the acquaintance of this fine young lady.”
With that, the old emanation disappeared into the ancient sarcophagus, entering it so violently that it began wobbling on its base.
Stuart was horrified. “Oh, my God!” he exclaimed.
He rushed toward the coffin, which was now rocking back and forth atop its marble plinth.
“There’s life in the old boy yet,” Cyrus said, with some admiration.
Janet was shocked. She looked at the rocking coffin—the priceless, thousands-of-years-old sarcophagus that had been excavated so carefully from Egypt’s famous Valley of the Kings—and saw her career disappearing. The crowd gaped at the coffin and then jumped back as curator Amos Osborne clutched the business card in his pocket and squeezed it as if it were a magic charm.
The coffin was now moving back and forth like one of those pop-up dolls weighted at the base.
“This can’t be happening,” Stuart exclaimed.
Then the coffin tumbled over and off its base, landing on the marble floor of the exhibition hall with a crash that resounded throughout every corner of the museum. The curator closed his eyes and tried to imagine himself basking in the sun on Tahiti as the echoes ran up and down the halls and finally faded away.
Everyone in the group of dignitaries rushed over to the fallen sarcophagus.
“Don’t touch it,” Janet yelled. “Oh no, don’t touch it.”
“The damn thing flipped over like one of those Mexican jumping beans,” Cyrus said, sliding through the crowd. When he got to the coffin, he could see the Judge’s butt bobbing up and down through the lid.
“The man’s incorrigible.” Cyrus shook his head and reached into the coffin to drag the Judge out by the ankles.
When he was back on his feet, the old man smiled. “I haven’t felt that way about a woman for nigh on one hundred and fifteen years.”
Unaware of this little exchange, Janet hurried over to the coffin and looked down at it. “My God, what could have happened?” she asked, speaking to no one in particular.
Curator Osborne, now white as a sheet and nearly trembling, stood next to her, gaping at the sarcophagus. “At least it stopped shaking,” he said, his voice as shaky as the coffin was a moment ago.
Cyrus was about to tell the Judge what he thought of his stunt when suddenly his face became a mask of horror. For at that moment he saw the Reaper come down the main hall, racing at unnatural speed, its black cape billowing out behind it, inky blue light streaming away from its body.
“What the hell is that?” Cyrus gasped as the creature slowed somewhat, sliding through the crowd unobtrusively. The blue light trailing behind it like a slipstream behind a jet plane sucked itself in, until it was just an ominous, unearthly glow about the creature itself.
“I never seen anything like that in my entire death,” the Judge said.
And Stuart was struck dumb.
Moving like the predator it was, the Reaper slid right through people who were completely unaware of its
“I guess the idea was that the body would stay preserved longer if you wrapped up the guts,” Stuart said.
“Yeah, and in that way the deceased wouldn’t wind up lookin’ like the Judge.”
“I told you to mind your manners,” the Judge said. “I won’t have you talking disrespectfully in the presence of a woman.”
“Who exactly would you be referring to?” Stuart asked.
The Judge looked at the X ray with dewy eyes. “That’s a mighty fine woman,” he said. “Good teeth. A woman should always have good teeth.”
“You sound like you’re buying a horse,” Stuart replied.
Without warning, the Judge spit in his hands and slicked his hair back, then hitched up his pants and began to stagger toward the coffin.
“Judge?” Stuart’s voice was filled with alarm.
“Where you goin’?” Cyrus asked.
The Judge winked over his ectoplasm-covered shoulder. “You boys hurry along and help Frank make some money. I wanna make the acquaintance of this fine young lady.”
With that, the old emanation disappeared into the ancient sarcophagus, entering it so violently that it began wobbling on its base.
Stuart was horrified. “Oh, my God!” he exclaimed.
He rushed toward the coffin, which was now rocking back and forth atop its marble plinth.
“There’s life in the old boy yet,” Cyrus said, with some admiration.
Janet was shocked. She looked at the rocking coffin—the priceless, thousands-of-years-old sarcophagus that had been excavated so carefully from Egypt’s famous Valley of the Kings—and saw her career disappearing. The crowd gaped at the coffin and then jumped back as curator Amos Osborne clutched the business card in his pocket and squeezed it as if it were a magic charm.
The coffin was now moving back and forth like one of those pop-up dolls weighted at the base.
“This can’t be happening,” Stuart exclaimed.
Then the coffin tumbled over and off its base, landing on the marble floor of the exhibition hall with a crash that resounded throughout every corner of the museum. The curator closed his eyes and tried to imagine himself basking in the sun on Tahiti as the echoes ran up and down the halls and finally faded away.
Everyone in the group of dignitaries rushed over to the fallen sarcophagus.
“Don’t touch it,” Janet yelled. “Oh no, don’t touch it.”
“The damn thing flipped over like one of those Mexican jumping beans,” Cyrus said, sliding through the crowd. When he got to the coffin, he could see the Judge’s butt bobbing up and down through the lid.
“The man’s incorrigible.” Cyrus shook his head and reached into the coffin to drag the Judge out by the ankles.
When he was back on his feet, the old man smiled. “I haven’t felt that way about a woman for nigh on one hundred and fifteen years.”
Unaware of this little exchange, Janet hurried over to the coffin and looked down at it. “My God, what could have happened?” she asked, speaking to no one in particular.
Curator Osborne, now white as a sheet and nearly trembling, stood next to her, gaping at the sarcophagus. “At least it stopped shaking,” he said, his voice as shaky as the coffin was a moment ago.
Cyrus was about to tell the Judge what he thought of his stunt when suddenly his face became a mask of horror. For at that moment he saw the Reaper come down the main hall, racing at unnatural speed, its black cape billowing out behind it, inky blue light streaming away from its body.
“What the hell is that?” Cyrus gasped as the creature slowed somewhat, sliding through the crowd unobtrusively. The blue light trailing behind it like a slipstream behind a jet plane sucked itself in, until it was just an ominous, unearthly glow about the creature itself.
“I never seen anything like that in my entire death,” the Judge said.
And Stuart was struck dumb.
Moving like the predator it was, the Reaper slid right through people who were completely unaware of its
Similar Books
