The Discovery of King Tutankhmeow

It was lonely living as a mummy under the great dusty pyramid. For thousands of years, Tut was tormented by a band of absurd rats that loved to play ridiculous games with him. Fashioning gold collars from chains and dresses from dried flowers they would reenact the stories painted on the peeling walls of his tomb. They would lift the top of his stone sarcophagus, force open the lid of his golden coffin, and laugh at his inability to move his limbs. Using strips of discarded fabric they would wrap themselves up like mummies and fumble around with their little arms outstretched making obnoxious groaning sounds. Although they were annoying, at times he did find humor in their outrageous antics.

One day in 1922 all the rats hid in fright. Some jumped into the pots of scented oils, others curled up among the gems and jewels, and a few that were bold enough posed as statues among the gold and ebony trophies. Just then Tut saw a thin light appear through one of the tomb’s entrances. Explorers with long thin noses and big brown hats slowly peeped their nostrils in to sniff at the abundance of gold and jewels surrounding his encasement. These out-of-place aardvarks started to methodically investigate all the items from the four chambers of his tomb. Finally, they found his coffin and removed the lid. 

For the first time in years, he saw the full light of the sun bounce off the hieroglyphics decorating the walls. There he read the wall drawings and was reacquainted with his life and his death.

Excerpt from "Dog Quixote" from Migrowl de Cervantes

Bored and locked inside, Dog dreamt of his sunlight dappled backyard. Staring at the light dancing through the windows he started to daydream to distract himself from the humdrum day. After a few minutes, a soft and slow rumble bubbled to the surface and erupted into a growl. Losing control he jumped on his sleeping friend, Sancho, who awoke in a tornado of barks, all his hair standing up on end like a porcupine. With wild eyes, Dog insisted there were giant squirrels just around the corner. They needed to launch their attack before the rodents conquered their domain.  

Sancho tried to shake off his irritation at being scared awake and followed Dog softly around the corner. There were seven chairs guarding a table draped in cloth. In the middle of the table a centerpiece filled with ball-shaped fruit.

Dog turned to his friend. "It appears that sixty to seventy gigantic squirrels are hiding our tennis balls, whom I mean to attack."

"What squirrels?" Sancho asked dryly.

‘‘Those that thou seest there with big saucer eyes, glorious white fangs, and some whose tails are almost two leagues long.’"

"You’re insane," grumbled Sancho. "Those are not squirrels, but chairs; and those which seem to be tails, are the seat backs."

Scoffing, Dog jumped in a spastic burst of energy toward one chair. He roared with the fury of a thousand samurai warriors, "Climb not, ye cowards and vile creatures of the trees! For it is only one warrior that assaults you."

The unsuspecting chair toppled over from Dog's attempted leap, and the rest of the seats followed it's leader's path down, like a line of dominos. 

Dog backed up and hunkered down. Raising his back hair for dramatic purposes he positioned himself for the devastating leap. Targeting the stolen booty he charged. Leaping with all his might up toward the table and above the pile of seats, he almost cleared the jump until his toenail caught the lace of the tablecloth. With a fall that seemed to take forever all the contents on the table came toppling down along with his great grey shaggy body onto the carpeted floor.  

Sancho slowly approached his friend, tangled in the carnage of chairs, satin-lined cloth, and fake fruit.  Rising up from the great battle, Dog paused to take in his surroundings. The room was heavy with the air of victory. Then suddenly, like the low mocking laugh of a feline, they heard the familiar slam of a car door from outside.