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“It happened quickly. Swift.” Teddy announced to a crowd of his fellow exhibits. “Poor soul didn’t see it coming.”
The incident occurred last week.
It was the end of a normal night’s work for Larry. Well, as normal as they could get considering what his job entailed.
7PM, he unlocked all of the exhibits before the sun disappeared.
8PM, Sacagawea gave him a teeny-tiny silver trophy. Jedediah and Octavius could have used it as a bath or pool. Obviously, Larry was quite chuffed and thankful but she refused to reveal what he had achieved. She just kept on giggling.
This should have been an immediate red flag.
Turns out the exhibits give this trophy to the person who Dexter has peed on the most.
“Great use of a piece of treasure, guys.” Larry grumbled. God knows what exhibit it was taken from. Although, he was strangely proud of the award.
9PM, Larry’s flashlight suddenly died. He scoured the security office for a good twenty minutes in search of new batteries, but none could be found. It was only when he visited the Neanderthal exhibit did he realise that they had stolen his entire stash of batteries. The primitive men were scoffing them down like it was an all you can eat breakfast at a hotel.
11PM, Jedediah and Octavius were recreating the beginning of ‘Barbie Girl’ by Aqua. Again. It was Jedediah’s turn to be Ken and drive up to Octavius. They took the duet very seriously; they made a rota and everything. Larry confiscated their car.
“You can have it back in a week.” Larry explained.
Jedediah stomped his foot. “A week? You expect me to wait a week? A whole week?”
Larry nodded seriously. “A whole week.” he repeated.
“But my liege,” Octavius spoke in a somber tone. “How do you expect us to traverse the museum without a means of transportation?”
“I don’t know.” Larry shrugged. “You could walk? Like everybody else.”
“Walk?!” Octavius shut his eyes and slowly fell backwards melodramatically. He didn’t mean to hit the floor though. The Roman had expected Jedediah to rush to his aid, just like the dashing long-haired heroes did in the movies they watched. That didn’t happen. With first-hand experience, Octavius could now tell you the floor was made of very hard material.
“That ain’t right! That’s gotta’ be illegal or something.” Jedediah hollered hotly, raising his fist. “We have rights, y’know?”
“Yeah, I do know.” said Larry. “And I also know that I have the right to not hear ‘Barbie Girl’ every single night.”
“We need the car to make our dramatic entrances!” Jedediah argued. Larry raised an eyebrow.
“You ever tried makin’ a dramatic entrance on foot? It don’t work.” the cowboy added.
“It works if you walk in slow-motion.” Octavius said with a groan as he finally picked himself up. Jedediah gritted his teeth in irritation and roughly pushed him. Octavius found himself meeting the floor for the second time.
“Shut your piehole, helmet head!” Jedediah hissed. “He doesn’t know that!”
It’s safe to say that they did not get their car back.
1AM, Larry heaved the clunky television that lived in the security office over to the main foyer. The night before, Nick had relayed to Ahkmenrah a movie he had recently watched with his school friends. The Pharoah was less interested in the movie itself and was more intrigued with the idea of a cinema experience.
He asked Larry if he could go to the local cinema to taste their world-famous delicacy; popcorn. Obviously, Larry said no. People may sometimes go and watch a film dressed up in costumes, but there weren't any Egyptian related films playing at the moment. He would attract too much attention.
They compromised with having a movie night at the museum. Ahkmenrah didn’t complain, especially after Larry told him that he could make popcorn in the microwave.
“And it's cheaper.” Larry added with a smile.
2AM, the exhibits were enjoying ‘Transformers’, which they had all voted to watch. They were all sitting on old cushions and bits of fabric they found around the museum. Larry kept chipping in with comments.
“The original movie is way better. The, uh, cartoon one. From the eighties.” he explained, reminiscing on his childhood. “Way better.”
Every single time, he was met with a cacophony of shushes.
“You have lived through the eighties?” Ahkmenrah whispered, leaning towards the nightguard. Dexter was unusually settled down and calm. He was snuggled up in Ahkmenrah’s crossed legs, the Pharaoh’s lavish robe draped over him like a blanket.
“Yeah.” answered Larry quietly.
Ahkmenrah nodded. “I see.” He straightened his back as he returned to his original position, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re old.”
Larry scrunched up his face, clearly offended. “Says you!” Dexter let out a shriek of a laugh.
“Hey, don’t you start!” Larry scolded the capuchin. “You may not be, uh, ‘Ahkmenrah Old’, but you're still old! Yeah, that’s right. You’re probably old enough to be my dad. My monkey dad. Or my monkey grandpa.”
Mocking Dexter was the only way Larry could steal back his dignity. Dexter carried so much confidence and cockiness on his tiny little shoulders that it always made Larry feel inferior.
“Do we need to put grandpa in the retirement home, huh?” Larry continued, putting on a mocking-sympathetic voice. “Do we need to chew up grandpa Dexter’s food and regurgitate it to him like a bird? Yeah?” he pouted his lips and stuck out his neck as he spoke.
He then realised that all eyes were no longer on the television set. They were all on him.
Teddy tutted and shook his head disapprovingly. “Good Lord, Lawrence, find some self-worth. It’s a monkey, for God’s sake.”
3AM, Larry realised he’d left the popcorn in the microwave for way too long. When he brought it out in a bowl to an eager Ahkmenrah, it had almost been burnt to a crisp.
After a few bites, Ahkmenrah screwed up his mouth. You’d think he was eating a straight up lemon. He took a swig of water.
“This popcorn is certainly something.” he remarked as politely as he could muster. “Reminds me of a conversation I had with Cnut the Great on how Vikings deal with their dead.”
“Oh.” Larry furrowed his eyebrows. “And... how do they deal with their dead?” he asked slowly.
Ahkmenrah ate another mouthful. “They cremate them.”
4AM, Atilla put on a magic show for those who hadn’t left after the film. Larry was picked out from the crowd to be a volunteer. However, he became a very unwilling volunteer when Atilla brought out a sword and expressed through his long-dead language and explicit gestures that he was going to cut Larry in half.
“Oh, and then you’ll put me back together?” Larry asked nervously.
Atilla looked confused. He spoke in a perplexed manner.
“No.” Ahkmenrah translated for Larry. “He says he thought that slicing you in half was the trick. He didn’t plan anything else after that.”
The magic show was promptly cancelled.
6AM, the Civil-War Mannequin decided to play Just Dance on Nicky’s Wii that Larry had borrowed.
To help them get along and put their differences, Larry had instructed them to do some team-work exercises at least one every fortnight. During their last activity session, they did some finger painting; this turned out to be a bad idea as the paint was extremely hard to wash off their cloth-fingers.
Larry was quick on his feet when Dr McPhee had asked about the multi-coloured fingers on the mannequins.
“It’s to celebrate Pride Month.” he had explained hastily.
“Uh, sorry, I must have a broken calendar.” McPhee had snapped. “The calendar company must have given me a dodgy one. Because, Mr Daley, my calendar says that it’s not June.” the museum director had narrowed his eyes. “How bizarre.”
At 6:55AM, the majority of the exhibits had made their way back to their original positions. Theadore Roosevelt and Larry walked in tow through the main foyer.
“So let me get this straight.” said Larry. “You did that every single morning? You would just wake up and...?” he trailed off and looked expectantly at the President.
Teddy nodded his head adamantly. “Affirmative.”
“Wow.” Larry’s pursed his lips. “That is a very extensive moustache care routine.” he raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed.
“It takes a lot of effort to keep this bad boy looking spick and span.” Teddy explained proudly, twirling his moustache with what seemed to be pride. He then paused and thought for a moment.
“Well, it did take a lot of effort. That’s one of the many benefits of being a wax figure,” Teddy flashed Larry his iconic toothy grin. “No need to shave.”
Larry chuckled. “Yeah. Even without your routine, I gotta’ admit, you really do rock that moustache. Looks great. It really suits your whole-…" he made incompressible gestures towards Teddy’s outfit. “Thing.”
“Thank you, Lawrence.” Teddy smiled. He placed his foot into one of Texas’ stirrups and heaved himself up onto the horse.
“Sacajawea thinks so too.” he winked. Larry bit his tongue and smiled, shaking his head slightly.
“I guess I'll see you tomorrow then.” Larry said.
“I guess so.” Teddy said. He raised up his sword, striking a high and mighty pose.
But just before Larry could leave, Teddy piped up.
“Hold on, son!” The President lowered his sword. “Could I ask you something before you go?”
Larry shoved his hands into his pockets and waddled away from the revolving doors. “Yeah, sure, what’s up man?”
With some hesitation, Teddy’s moustache bristled like a bird would ruffle its feathers.
“I don’t suppose on our next moving-picture night, we could watch Marry Poppins?” he kept his head high, but let out a cough of embarrassment.
Larry shrugged his shoulders. “If everyone else votes for it, then yes, sure, why not.”
“But that’s the problem. No one else wants to watch it.” Teddy griped, peering down at Larry. “Even Sacajawea doesn’t want to. Which I think it highly unreasonable.”
“I can’t help you there, buddy.”
“But Lawrence! Mary Poppins! It’s a heart-felt musical about a nanny who disciplines children.”
“Me and Mary have a lot in common...” Larry muttered under his breath. Night-guard duty somewhat felt like working at a day-care for children dressed up in period costumes.
“Please, lad. For me. Mary Poppins.” Teddy insisted.
“Oh, come on, Teddy. You of all people should be in favour of voting.” Larry laughed in disbelief. “You always preached about democracy and stuff.”
Teddy opened his mouth but no sound came out. He pursed his lips and reluctantly nodded.
“You’re right. I must let the people decide. It’s only fair.” he said, defeated. Texas whinnied and flicked her tail. This was her strange horse-way of comforting him. She would have smiled, but she was a bit self-conscious. For just five dollars a month, you can help Texas afford toothpaste that will help give her the pearly whites she desires. But only if you have a stable income.
“Good to hear.”
“So, I'll start creating my campaign tomorrow.”
“Your campaign?”
“Yes, to advocate for Mary Poppins to be rightfully placed on that moving-picture machine.” Teddy counted on his gloved fingers. “I’ll need to make pins, slogans, cartoon strips, speeches... they’ll never know what hit them.” he stared into Larry’s eyes. “Of course, it's still their decision.”
Larry nodded along. “Of course.” he couldn't be bothered to argue with Teddy right now. He could literally feel the eye-bags tugging down on his face. Erika, his ex-wife (‘And friend!’ Larry kept adding, ‘We’re actually on really good terms!), had once asked him if they were tattoos because they were permanently on his face.
Larry checked his watch. He glanced over at the window.
“I better get going.” he motioned his head towards the sun about to peak over the horizon.
“Yes, I’ll come up with more strategies on my own.” Teddy nodded once and lifted up his sword again.
Larry used a hand to fiddle with his flashlight. “You do that. See you tomorrow.”
“Farewell.”
Larry turned around and went to walk away.
“Oh, and Lawrence?”
Larry’s shoulders slumped. He swivelled around on the back of his heel. He locked eyes with Teddy.
Teddy continued. “You’d like to watch Mary Poppins, wouldn’t you?” he asked slowly.
“Well, I don’t-”
“Don’t mind watching it?” Teddy butted in desperately.
Larry moved his jaw, articulating an argument with no sound. He gave in.
“Yeah, I don’t mind watching Mary Poppins.”
“Aha! Bully!” Teddy belted out a roar of triumphant laughter. “My campaign has already worked; I have converted a voter to my side.” his eyes twinkled playfully. Or seriously. The exhibits acted bonkers anyway, it was hard to decipher when they were being serious.
With a mock-irritated smile, Larry put his hands into the air. “Alright. You got me. Well done. Now, I'm going to head home, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Right now.”
“Roger.”
Larry went to walk away but then immediately looked back at Teddy.
“No more- stuff about Mary Poppins, okay?” Larry pointed an accusing finger at him. “I want to go home.”
“Poppycock! You could have gone home this entire!” Teddy argued. “You’re the one who came back to listen.”
“And I’ll always come back!” Larry blurted out.
Yeesh, he thought, that sounded a bit too cheesy.
“What I mean- I just...” Teddy watched him expectantly. “I enjoy talking with you. You’re a cool guy.”
A soft smile graced Teddy’s lip. To Larry, he always gave off the comforting aura of a father who would always be there for you.
“I could say the same about you, lad.” the president tipped his head. “You are a ‘cool guy’ as well.”
Larry grinned. “Thanks, Teddy.”
He nodded in goodbye and headed towards the museum exit. His footsteps echoed across the foyer. Rexy padded over to the night guard and whined, dipping his head. Larry placed his hand on his skeleton head and rubbed it affectionately.
“See ya’, Rexy.” he removed his hand and Rexy bounded back to his pedestal.
Before going through the doors, Larry came to a halt and waved to Teddy.
“I love you man!” he shouted.
Teddy chuckled and waved back. “I love you too, Lawrence.”
“See you tomorrow!” Larry called. His smile was wide and genuine. As Larry left, Teddy adjusted himself into the proper position. His raised his sword up high, valiantly and proud.
And through the glass revolving doors, he saw it. And then the sun come up.
That morning, no one seem to notice certain oddities about the Theadore Rosevelt wax figure. It’s a wonder that parents didn’t complain about his face scaring their children. His before kindly old face was contorted in complete and utter horror. Mouth open, eyes wide and bulging, like a scream was caught in his throat. You could see the veins tensing underneath his skin. Who moulded veins into his wax skin?
But everyone was ignoring him for good reason. In fact, no one was allowed in the museum that day.
A crowd of people lifted themselves up on their tippy-toes to see the carnage behind the police barriers. All they could see was a crashed car that rested halfway up the museum stairs.
When the sun finally sunk down into the earth and Ahkmenrah’s Tablet shined a brilliant glow, Teddy’s scream become unstuck.
“Larry didn’t feel a thing. It was practically painless.” Teddy assured the rest of the exhibits. It sounded more like he was trying to convince himself of that fact.
A gloom shrouded the museum. The depression that the exhibits were exhibiting seemed to somehow physically alter the appearance of the museum. Everything seemed darker, gloomier. In reviews, visitors noted how things were off. Rumours began to pop up online about the ghost of the recently-departed nightguard haunting the halls.
There was no ghost, however. Not if you didn’t count historical figures coming back to life at night. None of the exhibits had hearts, but perhaps that was a good thing, because if they did, they would be broken.
Ahkmenrah wouldn’t come out of his sarcophagus. It was just like old times; for nights on end, he would yell and scream and cry and then it would stop and then start again and no one could help him. The King may be a man in terms of years he’s been existing, but he carried a boy body. And children don’t deal with death very well.
Ahkmenrah had always bottled up his emotions, put on a charming innocent mask to those around him. But a worn-out mask will eventually stop fitting your face as snugly as it used to.
Others had opened his sarcophagus for him. But the mummy would just slam it back shut. Ahkmenrah was convinced that Larry had to be the one to let him out, like he did every night. He couldn't accept that he was gone.
This was a big problem. Being in his sarcophagus set off his claustrophobia, which sent him more into a sorrow filled frenzy.
Atilla had gained back his murderous tendencies and anger issues. He broke inconsequential items like staplers and rulers, threatened anyone who eyed him funny. He distracted himself and his posse of Huns by going on patrols. They stalked the hallways, ominously staring ahead.
Sacagawea appeared calm on the outside. Inside, she was experiencing emotional turmoil. She comforted everyone else, spoke words filled with love and hope. Why can I use words to lift other people's spirits, she thought, but my own words cannot bring me out of this sadness?
Nick was affected the most. The exhibits didn’t see him for a while after the accident. Because Nick wasn’t a night-guard himself, he had to hide in various places around the museum and wait out until the coast was clear.
The part before night fell was the worst for him.
Especially when visitors and staff recognised him as the son of the beloved night guard. They always sent their prayers. Their love. Their sympathies. Their condolences.
It was lovely of them, yes. But Nick didn’t want the fact that his dad was dead to be rammed down his throat.
He had to go to two funerals. The first one was at a Chruch. Nick had to write a speech, which he did. He also wrote a second speech which he claimed was his own as well, but it was really the words of the exhibits who couldn’t be there.
The second was at the museum. There was no coffin, so it was more of a remembrance service. It was an organised chaos. A lot of the exhibits had different traditions when it came to death, so there were many different rituals and services to get through.
Nick did not do well emotionally. Atilla had to give him many bear-hugs.
“At least you no longer have the burden of having divorced parents.”
“Excuse me?” Nick turned to Octavius in disbelief. He dramatically slammed shut the locker he had just been rummaging through, channelling his shock into a physical action.
The teenager was searching for items in the Security office that might have belonged to his dad. Jedediah and Octavius offered to serve as company. They stood on top of a desk, occasionally milling about to examine the stationary and other oddities spread across it.
Dr McPhee had already handed Nick Larry’s old flashlight, but Nicky craved more. Larry’s life had revolved around this museum, so Nick supposed that by bringing some museum nick-nacks back with him, then perhaps...
Perhaps what? Nick thought. I’ll be bringing a part of him back home? I am just clinging onto his memory too much?
“Now that he no longer exists on this mortal plane, you only have one set of parents.” Octavius continued as he padded to the end of the desk. “Less to keep track of.” he said with a little shrug.
Nick couldn’t form any words. Neither could he completely fathom what he was hearing. The boy scrunched up his nose.
Before Nick could articulate his feelings, Jedediah left his spot by the pencil-pot and strode over next to Octavius.
“’Ay, ‘ay!” he hollered, clipping the Roman on the back of helmet. “Thats not a good thing! That’s a bad thing, you dope!”
Nick sighed. “Thanks, Jed.”
“But I’ll tell ya’ something else that ain’t a good thing!” Jedediah bit his bottom lip. Nick audibly groaned and closed his eyes in irritation.
“The lucky little scamp used t’have two birthdays and two Christmas’! And two Thanksgivings!” the cowboy shook his head, seemingly jealous of this fact.
“The one benefit of having divorved parents.” Octavius agreed.
“Now he don’t got no benefits.” Jedediah put a gloved finger under his chin in though. “God, if only my parents split. Imagine: two birthday cakes! For me! But nawh, they had to go ahead and be in a lovey-dovey marriage. Bleugh.”
“As an Empoerer and General, my birthday cakes came in the millions.” Octavius boasted. “If you piled them up, I’m sure they could reach Olympus.” he unsheathed his sword and pointed it high to emphasise his point.
“Did they even have birthday cakes in Rome?” Jedediah scratched his rough chin. “I feel like you’d be given birthday bread or something like that.”
“You’re just jealous of all my cakes.”
“Oh, pal’, I don’t want any of your birthday bread.”
“Cake! Birthday cake!” Octavius insisted and leaned into Jedediah's face. “With frosting and sprinkles and... and fire.”
“Fire?” Jedediah laughed. “Just fire?”
“Yes.”
“No candles?”
“No. ...Yes?”
“You’ve never had a birthday cake, have you Octavius?”
Octavius looked down in defeat. “No.”
“What the hell?!”
Jedediah and Octavius suddenly bolted upright. They stared up at a hot and flushed Nick. His face was tense and his eyebrows were weighed down with his anger.
“What is wrong with you guys?” Nick questioned furiously. He peered down at them. “I am right here, you know!”
Panicked, Jedediah tried to explain. “Look, we know your daddy just died, but-”
“Yeah, my dad died!” Nicky cried out. “My dad is dead! And all you can talk about how I’m not going to get two birthdays anymore?!”
Jedediah tipped his hat down in shame. Octavius fiddled with his blade, embarrassed.
“You don’t care! You don’t care that he’s gone!” Nicky shrieked. “He spent so long here and you don’t care! Maybe you guys are so used to dead people coming to life that you expect him to walk in any second- but I know the truth! I know- I know- that he’s never coming back!”
Cascades of tears rolled down his cheeks.
“And the last image I have of him is him in a wooden box and-” his breath hitched loudly and he inhaled in deep, quick spurts. “You don’t even care! How could you care, you’re just- things! Selfish things that- I wish we left you in a wooden box-” Nicky banged his fists violently onto the desk. The impact caused the miniatures to crumple down.
They gasped in shock. (“Mini-Gigantor!” “My leige!”)
“I wish we left you in the Smithsonian!” Nicky cried.
He hit the desk again.
“And then dad would still be at Daley-Devices! Then none of this would have happened! He would be alive and he would be here and this is all your fault! This is all your fault!”
With his eyes shut tight, he grabbed a random book from the desk and lifted it up.
“It’s all your fault!” he screamed. He slammed the book down.
But the book never met the desk. Something stopped it. Confused, Nick lifted up the book, which strangely took at little effort at first.
Jedediah was sprawled out on the desk. His teeth were grit, his jaw clenched. His face was turned to the side, embracing impact.
Octavius laid next to him and used one hand to sit himself up slightly. His other hand was raised upwards, as if he was a wizard casting a spell, holding a wand that wasn't there. His mouth was open, agape in fear, his eyebrows furrowed. He breathed so heavily that his chest pate and shoulders visibly raised up and down like he had just exerted all his strength.
Both of them look terrified. Scared.
Nick gulped. Without a word, he turned over the book. A small sword was stuck in the middle of the blurb.
Nick nearly threw up. Was he really just about to squish his friends? He threw away the book and it skidded across the floor.
There was a long moment of silence.
The two miniatures slowly sat up. They had faced dangers and death many times. But to be nearly hurt by someone you called a friend; that hurt.
Octavius and Jedediah conversed quietly, checking each other over.
Nick stepped forward. The miniatures snapped their heads up simultaneously. They instinctively used their arms to defend their faces.
Nick physically cringed and his finger curled. His face fell.
“Guys... I-I didn’t mean to...” he said and awkwardly ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry, I just- I didn’t...”
Octavius and Jedediah looked between each other and nodded.
“S-s’alright.” Jedediah manged to mutter and the two helped each other up. “No sweat.” said the cowboy who was profusely sweating.
“We were the ones who provoked you. You have nothing to be sorry about.” Octavius announced valiantly as he staggered to his feet. He looked down and saw they were shaking. “Well,” he made a pinching gesture with his forefinger and thumb. “Perhaps a little bit.”
Jedediah brushed down his shirt and readjusted his hat. “I know me and toga-boy here fight a lot, but dang.”
“Exactly. I have an extensive list of murder plots for Jedediah, but I haven't executed any of them.” Octavius said.
Jedediah narrowed his eyes. “You what?”
“That’s why you should never get on my bad side.” Octavius warned. “They’re very in depth, all planned.”
Nick groaned and flung his arms in annoyance. “Look, there you go again!”
The miniatures turned to him.
“You keep changing the subject and talking to each other like I'm not even here.” Nick complained, exasperated. “You go off topic and it feels like guys are making fun of me and the fact that he’s- dads not here. I feel like you’re mocking me.”
Jedediah's eyes widened. “What? No, no. You got i' all wrong, komboske. We’d never make fun of you.”
“It's quite the opposite, actually.” Octavius explained. “We were trying to make you feel... ‘fun’.”
“What?” Nick asked.
“You’ve been through so much, we wanted to cheer you up.” Octavius said. “You’ve been so upset recently.”
“Yeah,” Jedediah added. “Us bickering used to make you laugh all the time! We wanted to lighten the mood a little.”
“Maybe I want to keep the mood dark.” Nick snapped. Jedediah rubbed the back of his neck.
Nick continued with a lower volume. “Maybe I don’t want to be happy.” he let out a big sigh and lent back on a locker. He slid down until he was on the floor. “Not yet, at least.”
The miniature couple padded to the edge of the desk and peered down at the teenager.
“Why not?” Jedediah asked softly.
“Because it wouldn’t be right.” Nick murmured, bringing his knees up to his face and wrapping his arms around them. “He’s dead. I shouldn’t be happy. Otherwise, I- it would be disrespectful. I’d be a really crummy son for being happy when he’s not here.”
“You can’t grieve forever, my liege.” Octavius said.
“But I can’t just stop thinking about him! I can’t just forget him.” Nicky grumbled.
“It's not like you’d be forgetting about him forever.” Jedediah said.
“Better by far that you should forget and smile than should you remember and be sad.” Octavius spoke in a comforting tone.
Nick didn’t reply. He sunk further into his knees; his face no longer visible.
As quick and nibble as they could, Octavius and Jedediah found their way to the floor. They slowly shimmied down on of the desk legs and hopped down at the last second.
Nick felt a weird tugging sensation on his leg and veered his head up just in time to see Jedediah scramble onto his left knee.
“Stop your crying, big guy.” Jedediah said with a lopsided smile. “I’m here for you.”
“As am I!” Octavius declared as he clambered onto Nick’s right knee. He stood straight and upright. “We are yours to command, my liege.” he pounded a hand on his chest-plate.
“Yeah, whatever you need, we’ll do it for you, no problemo.” Jedediah put his gloved hands on his hips and stuck a foot out. “You only need to say the word.”
“What word?” Octavius looked confused. “Did we discuss this beforehand?”
“No, you rotten Roman! It’s a saying.”
“Well, it doesn't make any sense.”
“Thats because it’s a saying-” the miniatures gasped and realised they were squabbling again. They turned to Nick.
But Nick was smiling. I was a sad sort of smile, but it was a smile none the less.
“Thanks guys.” he said. “You were right, it does make me laugh.”
The cowboy and Roman grinned jubilantly. They went to hive-five each other but did so a little too enthusiastically. The force from the high-five caused them to fall off Nick’s knees and onto the floor. Nick snickered and tried to hide his laugher behind his hand.
Someone knocked on the door.
“Is everything alright in there?” came Sacajawea’s muffled voice. “I thought I heard shouting.”
She opened the door and her eyes searched the room until they landed on Nick, his body pressed up against the locker. A sympathetic expression adorned her features.
“Nicky, are you okay?”
Now, Nick thought he was okay. Sure, he had had a little breakdown, but he’d let out all of his emotions. He should be perfectly fine by now. He should be. He really should be. He was smiling just a second ago, he should be fine.
Nick stared at Sacajawea. His eyes pickled with tears.
“No.” he squeaked. The waterworks started up again.
“Oh, Nicky.” Sacajawea gracefully sat next to him and embraced him in a tight hug. Nick immediately buried his head into her shoulder. Good thing the material they made her clothes out of was waterproof.
Atilla poked his head through the door which had been left ajar. He looked at the scene before him and spoke worriedly. Jedediah waved his hand around to get his attention. The cowboy made a hugging motion and then pointed at Nick.
Atilla nodded in understanding and entered the room. He sat at the other side of Nick and hugged him from behind, using his Hunnish strength to squeeze him affectionately.
Teddy walked past the office. He stopped, paused, and then walked backwards to the door. He peeked through.
“Oh, boy...” he whispered to himself. He marched into the room. “Can I assist at all?”
Sacajawea looked back and motioned for him to come closer. He promptly made his way over, sitting down and joining the hug.
He gave Nick’s shoulder a good pat. “Thats it, son. Let it all out.” he said warmly, his eyes moist. Nick’s hiccupped in response.
Ahkmenrah glided into the room. “Has anyone seen Nicky? I’m worried. I haven't- oh.” his eyes fell onto the figures huddled against the locker. He began to wring his hands, not sure what to do.
In Hun, Atilla encouraged the Pharoah to join them.
“Nick needs us?” Ahkmenrah repeated. He sniffled, his recent depressive emotions beginning to resurface again. “I think we need Nick as well.”
He treaded swiftly to the teenager. Before he added himself to the group hug, he picked up Octavius and Jedediah and placed them on his shoulders as it was easier to join in on the hug being high up than it was being on the floor.
This went on for quite a while. It was comforting for Nicky, to have all his museum friends around him. He didn’t feel quite as alone as before.
“Your father wouldn’t have wanted you to be in this state.” Sacajawea said quietly, tousling Nick’s hair as she spoke.
Nick’s mind directed him to a retort. ‘You don’t know what he would have wanted.’ But no one knew. And no one ever will. But perhaps Sacajawea was on the right track.
Once Nick had calmed down, the exhibits refused to leave until they were content that he was okay. Thank God Nick had been forced to join Debating Club at school.
After a well worded argument about his wellbeing, they finally left him with the two miniatures.
“Hey, lookie here!” Jedediah suddenly pointed to the top of the locker. “Thats our car!
“So it is.” Octavius exclaimed in amazement. Nick pushed up on his tip-toes and grabbed the red and blue remote-control car.
“Ah, no! Don’t bring it down!” Jedediah blurted out.
Nick coked his head. “Why? I thought you guys loved this thing. “
“We do.” agreed Octavius.
“But Larry put it in the jail house.” Jedediah said.
“He confiscated it.” Octavius translated.
“Yup. We gotta’ wait a whole week til’ we can get that bad boy back.” Jedediah shook his head and looked fondly at the toy in Nicks hands.
“But Jed,” Nick pursed his lip. “It's been more than a month since...”
Jedediah’s mouth curved into a perfect ‘o’.
“But, young Nick,” Octavius said with wide eyes. “Should we not respect his request before death? If he didn’t want us to have the car, then perhaps we should extend the week deadline in his honour.”
“If that’s what the big man wanted, I don’t mind giving it up.” Jedediah rested his hands on his hands on his gun holsters.
Nick thought for a moment. “No.” he said. “I think Dad would have wanted you to be happy. Here,” he placed down the car. “It’s all yours.”
“I’ll drive!” the miniatures yelled simultaneously. They huffed and narrowed their eyes, giving each other the death star. Then they all snickered. And then they all laughed.
It had been four months since the death of Larry Daley. Larry always loved his branding, so Nick joked that if he became a grim-reaper, his business would most likely be called ‘Death-On-The-Daley'.
Things had mostly gone back to normal. Dr McPhee had allowed Nick to become a Night-Guard during the Summer period. The holidays meant he didn’t have to worry about getting up for school.
Larry was still heavily missed, yes, but they didn’t dwell on the past too much. They remembered him with fondness and grieved until they became upset.
One night, Ahkmenrah was wondering down one of the ground floor hallways when he heard a noise. He came to a steady halt and the cape the was billowing behind him slowly fluttered down.
The museum was home to a wide arrange of strange noises. Sometimes you could hear Teddy doing some exercises to keep his wax in working order. That man could go to the grunting championships.
But this specific noise came from a very specific place; the downstairs storage room. No one went in the storage room. The reason behind this will knock your socks off.
It smelt. Yep. That’s it. It just had a weird, manky smell that just didn’t sit right with anyone.
Ahkmenrah looked at his surroundings. There was no one else around. He pressed his head against the storage room door. He could decipher the rustling of paper, or a similar type of material. Then a ripping of duct tape. Then a grunt and a groan. It sounded like something was being unwrapped.
Ahkmenrah didn’t have a heart. The one he had before was neatly packaged in a canopic jar in some other museum. But if he did have one, it would have stopped. Was there a burglar? Were they in the process of stealing something.
He considered getting Nick, but what if the burglar got away? There was no time to lose. With a sudden sense of purpose, Ahkmenrah wrenched open the door and rushed inside. The door led to an exposed staircase. He stood halfway down it, allowing him to see the whole room from an elevated place.
Ahkmenrah kept quiet.
More rustling.
“Hello?” Ahkmenrah called out firmly.
The rustling stopped. “Hello?” a voice called back. It was familiar.
“I have reason to believe you are trespassing.” Ahkmenrah said in a calm, demanding tone he had heard his father use when he was on the throne.
“Trespassing?” the voice spluttered in surprise. “Oh, come on, Ahk. Are you in on this too?”
“I would advise you show yourself and come out of hiding. I assure you that you will not be harmed.” the pharaoh promised. If he played the good guy, the burglar might warm up to him and-
“How do you know my name?” Ahkmenrah blurted out in an unroyal like manner.
“Ah. I see how it is.” said the voice. “That’s really funny. Well, it’s not funny, actually. It was funny at first, sure, but it was just amusing funny. I didn’t laugh. No. Back in the real world, we call this kidnapping. Or torture. Did you help with all this?”
“With what?” Ahkmenrah asked, perplexed. He was completely thrown for a loop.
“Stuffing me in a box!” the voice exclaimed. “Is this because of that one time I let you guys get shipped to the Smithsonian? Because I get why you were mad, these packaging peanuts are so itchy. I think I have a rash in seven different places.” he yelped and there was the sound of something ripping. “Ouch, I knew duct tape hurt, man. I didn’t need first-hand experience!”
Ahkmenrah was stunned. He shook his head, using the physical action to help him mentally shake away his confusion.
“Rambling tactics won’t work on me. Who are you?”
The voice groaned. “It’s me.”
“Well, ‘Me’.” Ahkmenrah elongated the term ‘me’. Suspicion laced his words. “Reveal yourself and I can decide how to deal with you.
The voice laughed in disbelief. “Fine. But I tell you,” A figure came out from behind one of the large standing storage shelves. “This joke has gone too far. I've got work to do, y’know?”
Ahkmenrah’s throat tightened. He doubled-down as if someone had hit him in the gut, his hand using the railing as physical and emotional support. He didn’t dare breath. His eyes were wide, his mouth agape. He tried to speak but could form no real words. It sounded like he was choking politely.
Dr McPhee had a secret project. When Larry had first joined the museum crew, McPhee was not at all impressed. Larry made messes, came up with strange excuses. But his imagination was his strong point and he managed to use it to draw in a mass number of visitors. He grew on McPhee. He also grew their fame and income from impressed high ups. It was no wonder Larry became a favourite, even if Mcphee didn’t show it much.
He liked how Larry was as devoted to the old building as he was. You don’t get many people with such refined tastes these days.
But now Larry was gone.
There was a Larry shaped hole in McPhee’s heart. He wasn’t just an employee; he was a friend. A friend he could joke around with, boss about, be himself with.
So, in honour of his good friend, he commissioned a work of art. It was to be unveiled later this week and placed outside, next to the entrance. Dr McPhee thought it was a nifty idea, having him outside to guard the entire museum, just like the good old days.
And here was Ahkmenrah, face to face with that very art piece.
He clung onto the railings tighter and stared at Larry.
Or something that looked exactly like him. The figure was exactly the same height as Larry. It wore the exact same uniform, held the same flashlight, bore the same expressions he would make. The main difference was that he was a statue.
He was made of a mix of copper and bronze. His skin, hair, clothing, everything, was a mix of the colours bronze and sea-green. He moved like a stop-motion monster from the sixties; his moments were jittery and uncanny. When he did move, it sounded like someone bending metal or a car squealing to a halt.
It blinked. Ahkmenrah’s breath hitched. The statue had no pupils.
“What's up, dude?” asked a concerned Larry. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”