The Search For Pandora's Box
Page 2
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Laurence had a feeling that this was to be his last tour, so he had better make it a good one, he thought to himself. But as he got closer and closer to the end of his route, he realised that this job wasn’t the right one for him. Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a devastating loss. Life would go on and his torment would be at end. He had done his best, but no one laughed at what he thought were his hilarious jokes, no one listened to his interesting anecdotes and many of the younger tourists made fun of his appearance. There were no perks to this job; the pay wasn’t good, there was a striking lack of attractive female co-workers, or any female co-workers for that matter, and it wasn’t satisfying. Surely fate had more in store for him than disaster after disaster?
His thoughts turned to what he would do with his life now. He had always wanted to travel, to find hidden treasure, discover ancient civilisations and save distressed damsels from certain peril. In short, Laurence wanted to be Indiana Jones. There were however three major obstacles to his chosen path. Firstly, Indiana Jones wasn’t real, and therefore Laurence couldn’t be him. Secondly, Laurence wasn’t brave or strong or scholarly; he was an inexperienced man with no faith in his own abilities. He didn’t believe in himself or believe himself capable of great feats. Thirdly, and perhaps the most important and dangerous obstacle of them all, he had just entered the ‘Extinct Animals’ exhibit with his tour of twenty students, and immediate calamity was just one innocent question away.
‘We have reached the end of our tour, ladies and gentleman, the ‘Extinct Animals’ section! Feel free to wander about for yourselves, return to previously visited exhibits and do please visit the gift shop. Are there any questions?’ Laurence asked, as he swept his sun-soaked hair to one side and scratched at it impatiently.
‘Yeah,’ said a gangly, unwashed youth. ‘Do you know anything about Aztec burial rituals or the Holy Grail?’
‘No, sorry’ Laurence answered swiftly. Why was this man asking him questions about those subjects when they were in the ‘Extinct Animals’ exhibit, he asked himself. Had they really been paying so little attention to what he had been saying? Laurence was reaching the end of his tether.
‘Okay well what about the lost city of El Dorado, Atlantis and buried treasure?’ A very short woman, hidden by a huddle of bored looking students, proceeded to ask.
‘I’m afraid not but I’m sure if you asked Nigel...’ an increasingly annoyed Laurence replied, his tether fraying with each passing second.
A man in an ill-fitting t-shirt and orange baseball cap that was facing the wrong way asked one final question, ‘So you know nothing about Excalibur or the Incas or…’
‘No!’ roared Laurence furiously, ‘I know nothing about Aztecs, Holy Grails, aliens, magical chalices, power stones, pyramids, lost cities or buried treasure! I know nothing about these things! I know nothing! We’re in the ‘Ancient Animals’ exhibit you moron, why the hell would I need to know anything about Excalibur!’ The man stood on his tiptoes, his hands thrust forward in exasperation, his face as red as the ripest strawberry. A panorama of his tour revealed twenty gobsmacked faces, unable to believe the tour guide’s volcanic-like eruption of anger. However, one spotty 16 year-old girl had one last question for the about-to-be-fired tour guide. She spoke in a harsh Scottish accent,
‘Excuse me, Mister. That there Woolly Mammoth skeleton,’ she pointed to the magnificent animal behind Laurence, ‘is that thing fragile or really rock-hard, you know, proper sturdy?’
Laurence relaxed his body, and turned to answer, ‘That’s a good question. Now when I first worked here I too, like you, thought that the slightest touch on one of these precious exhibits, that had remain untouched and perfectly preserved for millions of years, and is now suspended by only a few slight strings, would cause the whole thing to collapse and end up a heap of useless bones on the floor. Ha-ha, what a fool I was!’ He chuckled, and as he chuckled, he outstretched one of his arms and held onto the ribcage of the woolly mammoth skeleton that was suspended mid-air behind him. Indeed he was a fool, for as he put his whole weight onto it the wires in the ceiling started to shriek under the pressure and in an instant the whole skeleton started to fall and collapse behind him, causing a cacophony of broken bones and pieces of ceiling. The proceeding tremors caused a similar Sabre-toothed tiger skeleton to fall also, then another skeleton, and another, the rubble upon rubble cascade resulting in a cloud of dust spreading about the room and a scream from the mouth of Quentin Derry that echoed about the room for what felt like eternity. The dust settled, revealing twenty faces that were even more gobsmacked and shocked than before. Laurence turned, looked at the heap of dust, bones and building infrastructure that had collected up on the floor behind him, and let out a deep breath. His eyes lit up, his limbs froze like blocks of ice and his hair leapt off his skin in terror. And then, he fainted.
Chapter Two
Desertion, Drinks and Dreams