I scrunched up my face in pain feeling a sudden soreness flood in a very personal part once the horse powerfully galloped away through the brilliant golden hall. I groaned through gritted. Roosevelt flashed a guilty smile “I keep forgetting that part.” He muttered. I bit my lip “I thought so.” I groaned. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a night guard as nimble as you are!” He exclaimed, his eyes going wide with enthusiasm. I would have thanked him for his kind words but, I was still trying to adjust. A pleasant breeze pushed against us when his running cow took a turn. I saw Emily Dickinson holding hands with William Shakespeare, Edgar Allen Poe quoting his infamous poem “The Raven”, and George Washington Carver talking with Aristotle about corn. Seeing some of these amazing figures, I remembered having studied about them when I was in school. I blacked out after each class though, I mean, who wanted to read about dead people? To my relief, the horse slowed down to a stop. I slid off it slowly. It was painful to walk.
“Hello William!” Greeted my tour guide chipperly to a relaxed looking figure “Still lookin’ at your little girlfriend?” cried a well rounded man who shot up from his seat at the sight of him. I noticed his friend to be (Rizzo) William H. Taft, I supposed there was a sort of close relationship between the two. Theodore only smiled and with a wave of his hand did he discard the subject “Don’t tease me about that.” He said with a laugh. “Where’s da fun in that?” William chuckled. After a few minutes passed, Theodore introduced me heartily. “Nice tah meet yah scrawny stuff.” Saluted the stout man with a sly grin “Same here.” I replied, shaking his hand weakly. Once I was informed of the secret, they advised me to go into the nearby room “Can’t any of you come with me?” I asked—it looked so dark. No answer.
I cautiously walked between two towering beasts. Doglike creatures decorated in sacred jewelry staring at me with silent observation and I could only realize just what they were. The protectors of a possible Pharaoh lurking about “Nice Chihuahuas…” I said. “Oh gee, I wouldn’t call them that if I were you.” A soft voice warned. I turned around to gaze upon the young face of—ok, I forgot this one but he was supposed to be the youngest pharaoh in all of Egypt or something. “Who are you?” I asked again for the hundredth time. “No one important,” he uttered modestly “Just your average pharaoh.” He shrugged a little. “He’s King Tutankhamen,” Chirped a feminine voice (Sara) “He just doesn’t like to attract so much attention to himself.” The (Scooter) young pharaoh gasped lightly “Hi there sweetie.” She was a recent discovery by the looks of it. “I’m guessing you’re looking for Akmenrah’s tablet?” He asked wide-eyed.
“Yeah—I was told by Ro…”
“Gosh, then come right this way.”
“Thanks.”
“Sure is swell to have a new night guard!”
“I appreciate it.”