the Golden Ankh

well since Im so blocked and wont be coming here again for some time and probably have to go to Negombo again this evening ,let me leave my friends with a bit of prose that i have written a while back- pls tell me what you think - because its your brickbats and bokays* that make me write and you never know, you may actually like it if I kept on writing...


Extracted from the Golden Ankh-Aljuhara 2002


“How’d it go son?” inquired Mousey’s mother, handing him his normal dinner flat bread and fried fish.
“Well there was this sort of cheaper place like downtown, where you don't have to mortgage
your pyramid to embalm a dead rat …But like its kind of final, sort of…they take out more than they put in you know..”
“That’s life dear, The spirit is willing but the cash is tight …I’ll tell you what, its your cat
so I’ll let you keep him in your bedroom until we pass Bubastis on our way to visit the 2nd gran…” absentmindedly she was being more than just generous here since their living room was already so full of extended relations who had died of the plague that there was no room for their meager furniture and Dad had started using one of his cousins to support the ashtray…
“Which particular gran would that be, mum?” Mousey asked vaguely and immediately regretted having asked.
His mother seemed to swell “ the valuable one, the one with the Gold and turquoise eyeballs
… how many times have I told you we have to remember the dead …do you know the one I’m talking about?”
“Uh … “
“Mouse lazybones … You sleepy headed dung beetle eater …It never does to forget the dead. You know our Profession…”
He knew only too well and everyone else knew too that although Mousey’s father called himself a carpenter the only carpentry he did was axing open other peoples coffins in the deserted
acropolis around Thebes. It was his “profession”. In fact it was the profession of his father too and his grandfather and so on. It all really depended on having a good memory for places and names. Mousey had, frankly neither. His mother tried often to force him to study and memorize some top-secret lists of important locations and names but he was honestly hopeless. Anyone could see he would make a lousy tomb robber some day, digging on all the wrong places and completely messing up the system. If, that is, he ever did go out and start to actually do something as strenuous as digging in the first place!

http://www.writeclique.net/work.php?ID=474

*(pardonez moi, mutter aney oi prench wagey ispelling nam hari amaarui -no honest i dont know how to spell bokay, ironic I guess-gimmi some time Ill check )