By John Cosper

Bernie couldn't believe his eyes. Four years of college and six years of graduate school and research had prepared him well for the exploration of Egyptian tombs. He knew how to read hieroglyphics. He knew how the Pharaohs typically laid out their tombs. He knew the process of mummification, and how bodies prepared in such a way would look after thousands of years.

But nothing in his studies of explorations had prepared him for this.

He was standing just in the doorway of an internal chamber, not unlike many others he had seen before. Only rather than finding a sarcophagus on a stone slab, Bernie found a bed of softest linens, and resting on the bed, a dark skinned, black-haired Egyptian princess.

Bernie had read the myths about the Princess Su-Nahra, a "sleeping beauty" cursed at birth not unlike the princess of the Grimm fairy tale. An Egyptian priest exiled by her father the Pharaoh cursed the infant Princess, stating that on her eighteenth birthday, she would be bitten by a cat and die. Another priest more friendly to the Pharaoh amended the curse, stating that she would not die, but fall into a deep sleep, and would one day be awakened by the kiss of a stranger from a foreign land.

Bernie first read about the Princess as a sophomore in college. The quest for her tomb had become an obsession, yet not even Bernie believed he'd really find her as the legends claimed: locked in a dreamless sleep until a true heart sought her out to wake her with a kiss.

Now that he found her, what should he do? Kissing a princess who had slept for three and a half thousand years had only appealed to him in his wildest dreams and fantasies. He honestly never believed he'd find a real, living, sleeping princess, so he'd never considered what to do at this moment.

Bernie realized that as all this history and contemplation milled around in his head, he had moved closer to the Princess. He now stood directly over her crimson lips, still moist, and very inviting. Bernie tried to think rationally about the situation, trying to make a decision based on rational thought and scientific curiosity. But before he could even begin to organize those thoughts, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers…

"And as I pulled back, I saw her eyes, her beautiful green eyes open, and, well, it was love."

Bernie looked at the beautiful, living Egyptian princess standing at the radio microphone to his right. To the Princess' right, David Spencer carried on with his top rated radio show.

"Well that was some story, Dr. Krieger. And I know the whole world has fallen in love with this beautiful princess. What was your name again, dear?"

"My name is Princess Su-Nahra," she replied. "But here in my new land, I have taken on the name Michele."

"All right then, Michele. Tell us, when you woke up, what was the first thing that went through your mind?"

Michele winked at Bernie. "Who was this handsome creature standing over me?"

David laughed a great radio laugh. David had a great radio voice, and no one knew and appreciated that fact more than David himself.

"I asked a lot of questions at first," she went on. "What year was it? Who was Pharaoh? Of course, imagine my surprise when I discovered the Pharaohs were all gone and whole empires had arisen and fallen since. Bernie coached me in learning your new language, and then explained the history of the past four thousand years to me."

"I see," David interjected, simply for the fact that he wanted to hear his voice again. "So when did you fall in love?"

"Well," Bernie began nervously. "It sort of just, you know, happened over time."

"Is that your story too, Michele?" David asked.

Michele beamed. "It was love at first sight."

"Isn't that beautiful, ladies and gentlemen?" David spoke as charmingly as he could. "This is certainly the great love story of 1927, if not the greatest story of all time. The sleeping Egyptian beauty and her American hero. For those of you who want to learn more about the Princess, an exhibit of artifacts from her pyramid currently on display at the Speilhem Museum here in Los Angeles will be touring the country beginning in January. For you fans of the silver screen, a movies is in the works too. Is that correct, Dr. Krieger?"

"That is correct," Bernie replied. "Douglas Fairbanks is playing me, and a young actress named Jean Harlow will play Michele."

"Outstanding," said David. "But if you just can't wait for the movie, those of you here in Hollywood can see the lovebirds this weekend as they will be wedded up on the hill, just below the letter H. Play, Don."

Band leader Don Walker and his Sunshine Swingers kicked in with a rousing musical number to the applause of the studio audience. David shook hands with his guests as they walked off the sound stage.

"Lovely to meet you both," said Don. "Everyone in America is jazzed about this story." He turned to Michele. And they all love you."

Indeed, the American public had fallen in love with Michele. Her face was on the cover of every major magazine in circulation in 1927, and as she retold the story of her curse and resurrection, one fan in particular pondered how he might win her love.

His name was Biggs Manley, the toughed gangster in South Central Beverly Hills in the late 1920's. Biggs was not only a bootlegger, but an aficionado of Egyptian artifacts. He collected stone statues and golden idols from all the treasures of all the greatest Pharaohs. But Michele stood as the greatest artifact of all.

"Knuckles," he hollered.

A Six foot six thug with no brains entered.

"You called?"

"You been listening to the radio?"

"No, boss," said Knuckles. "Face 'n' I was shootin' craps in the hall."

"There's a young woman was just on the radio, see?" Biggs said, tossing a copy of Look magazine to Knuckles. "I need to add her to my collection of Egyptian artifacts, see?"

"She's pretty," said Knuckles.

"She's a goddess," said Biggs. "And she's gonna be mine, see? All mine!"

Face, a tall, lanky loser with a thin mustache and a twitchy right eyes, walked in on the conversation. "How you gonna swing dat?" asked Face. "I hear dat Egypt dame is engaged to dat archaeologist what found her."

"Not for long," said Biggs. "Because my boys are gonna bring her to me, see? And if the archeologist gets in the way, my boys are gonna kill him."

Face and Biggs laughed. Knuckles tried to think.

"Boss," Knuckles asked. "Who is your guys?"

Biggs threw an ashtray that hit Knuckles square on the forehead. "Get out there and find me the princess!"

As Biggs set his wicked plan into motion, something else went into motion in the Egyptian wing of the Spielheim Museum. Just after Fred the night watchman turned out the lights and locked up, an ancient sarcophagus opened, and a dusty, rotted corpse began to climb out, stretching its bones and what was left if its muscles for the first time in over thirty five centuries.

The wedding was in four days, and Biggs' chances of finding the princess in time were not good, considering Knuckles and Face were far from the brightest goons working in LA at the time. Fortunately for Biggs, Face had a cousin who was married to a girl who's sister was dating a guy who worked for a guy who's sister was married to a man who ran a movie theater. Face frequently stopped in to wrangle tickets from the theater manager, which he happened to do two days into the search for the princess.

"We're showing a new talkie tomorrow night," said Vinnie the manager. "I hear it's a sensation."

"Yeah?" asked Face. "What is it?"

"A swashbuckling adventure from Monumental Pictures. The Dueling Cavalier."

"Sounds like a good laugh," said Face. "Gimme two tickets."

"I wish I could," said Vinnie. "But tomorrow night is invitation only."

"How come?" asked Face.

"A lot of celebrities are coming. Chaplin, the Barrymores, Flynn… Oh, and the Egyptian Princess and her fiancée, Michele. She's coming."

Face's face perked up. "Da Princess?"

"Yup," said Vinnie.

"Vinnie, you gotta get us in tomorrow night. You don't understand. Knuckles here, he's in love with da Princess. If he got to meet her…"

"Sorry, guys. No can do."

Knuckles two brain cells rubbed together and produced a thought. "Face, I ain't in love wid her, Biggs--"

Face covered Knuckles mouth. "Vinnie, you gotta do me dis one."

"No tickets are left," said Vinnie. "I'm sorry."

"Do you need any ushers?" asked Knuckles, causing both men to stare in shock and disbelief as it was the first intelligent thought they had ever heard the lug offer.

"Well, we do have a full staff for tomorrow evening."

"We can take care o' dat," said Face. "Give us the addresses of two you don't like, and we'll--"

"No, no," said Vinnie. He walked to the closet and pulled out two uniforms. "Be here at six tomorrow night."

Face and Knuckles left the theater and hailed a cab to Biggs' house, eager to tell the good news. Along the way, they completely failed to stop and give money to a poor beggar, who a few days previous had been a night watchman at the Speilheim Museum before losing his job. The following morning, the Museum president found the back door locked, but smashed down completely. Someone had to take the fall, and Fred was the unfortunate scapegoat.

The following night, a dark figure lurked in the darkness across the street from the movie theater. Eyes as ancient as the Sphinx watched the parade of limousines roll up to the curb and release their payloads of celebrities. The sight would surely have impressed the mummy, if he had not been dead for thousands of years and were up on the movie stars of the day.

Inside the theater two dim figures were in awe of the celebrities around them. Two such celebrities in particular caught their eye: Dr. Bernie Krieger and his fiancee, Michele, the Egyptian princess. The stars of film stood an applauded their entrance, just three minutes before the lights dimmed and the film rolled.

As soon as the lights went out, one of the dim figures placed a phone call to another dark figure.

"Boss? It's Face. The movie's just started. Shall we smash and grab her now?"

"You don't lay a hand on the girl, see? You're gonna wait for the movie to be over, see? Then you'll follow the girl and the professor home, see? And when you get home, you'll break in, kidnap the lovers, and bring 'em to me, see?"

"I see." Face hung up. He checked his watch. Most movies lasted an hour and a half. He had time for a quick nap.

Or so he thought.

Twenty minutes into the film, the audience began streaming out, mocking and ridiculing the horrific film. Yes, in the early days, many a career was cut short when actors were forced to talk, and the stars of The Dueling Cavalier seemed doomed to that fate. Knuckles pushed his way through the crowd, knocking a stunned Buster Keaton on his face. "Face, did you see?"

"I see," said Face.

"That film was awful. Just horrible."

"You dummy," said Face. "I was referring to the crowd leaving. Find the Princess. We're to follow her and her man home."

Knuckles and Face mingled into the crowd. They spied Bernie and Michele, and in top shadowing form, followed at a distance. They tailed them outside the theater. They tailed them to the limo. Then the limo sped off, leaving Face and Knuckles behind.

"They got away," said Knuckles.

Face hit Knuckles, unsure what else to do, mad at himself for not getting a car ready to follow the limo. He could hardly be held responsible, seeing that he had been unable to secure said transportation in the time between receiving marching orders and the mass exodus from the theater.

"Now what do we do?" Face said, not expecting any intelligent suggestions to come from his counterpart.

"Well," said Knuckles. "Why don't we try their apartment?"

"We don't know where the apartment is," said Face.

"I do."

"How do you know where they live?"

"The Princess told me," said Knuckles. "I seated her and her guy friend. She was real sweet to me, gave me an autograph, and said I should stop by for lunch some time."

"And she told you where she lived?"

"Yup."

"Then lead us there!" yelled Face. "Come on, let's go!"

Knuckles led Face to the apartment complex, a process which took a couple of hours, as Face let Knuckles drive and Knuckles was terrible at finding his way around LA. Face had fallen fast asleep by the time they reached the apartments. "Wakey, wakey, Face," he said, shaking Face awake. "We're here."

The hoodlums walked around the back of the building and started up the fire escape. Around about the third floor, Knuckles stopped.

"Do you hear that?" he said, pointing in the third story window. "Singing. In here."

Knuckles and Face drew their guns. (Only Face's was loaded; Biggs made sure Knuckles never had access to live ammunition.) After a three count, Face broke the window and the hoods leaped into the room.

"Nobody move!" shouted Face. "Dis is a kidnapp--"

Face looked over the faces in the room. No professor of archaeology. No Egyptian princess. Just two men (one who looked terribly familiar) and one woman in tap shoes.

"Good mornin'!" said the young woman.

"Good mornin' to you," said Face. "We're… in da wrong apartment." He paused awkwardly, searching for the right words to say. Right or wrong, all he could follow up with was, "Sorry."

Face made his way back to the window. Knuckles approached the more familiar looking man. "Do I know you?"

The man laughed nervously. "It's possible."

Knuckles pointed at him. "You were in that awful movie tonight! With Lina Lamont! You were the dueling cavalier!"

The man laughed even more nervously. "No, you must be mistaken."

Knuckles stared a moment longer, then decided the man had to be right, and he had to be wrong. He turned and walked back to the window and followed Face back to the fire escape.

"I thought you said dat was da apartment!" whispered Face.

"I never said that," said Knuckles. "I just liked the singing."

Thunder clapped. The guys looked up at the menacing storm clouds rolling in.

"They're on the fourth floor," said Knuckles. "She's in one apartment, and he's in another."

"Separate apartments?" asked Face.

"She insisted," said Knuckles. "Said her dad would have disapproved of them living together before the wedding."

Knuckles and Face proceeded up the fire escape to the fourth floor. Ten minutes later, they walked back down the fire escape with Michele and Bernie, dressed in their pajamas. They put the couple in the car, and drove (with Face behind the wheel) to Biggs' house in South Central Beverly Hills.

"Welcome," said Biggs, gesturing to the bedroom furnishings around him. "Welcome to my home." He touched Michele gently on the chin. "Your new home away from Egypt."

Michele struggled against Knuckles' grip. If Knuckles was good for one thing, it was strong arming trouble makers and hostages. Beside her, Bernie sat tied to a chair in silence, Face's gun pressed firmly in the square of his back.

"I will not live here with you," said Michele defiantly.

"Oh no?" asked Biggs. "And why not?"

"I am in love with Bernie," she said. "And I will remain faithful to him, til death do us part."

"Well then," said Biggs. "You don't have long to wait. I'm going to kill Bernie tonight."
"No!" shouted Michele.

"Oh yes," said Biggs. "Right after you and I consummate our love."

"Leave her alone!" shouted Bernie.

"You are in no position to give orders," said Biggs. He stepped forward and placed a hand on Michele's cheek. "Boys, leave us alone. The lady and I need some privacy."

Knuckles and Face laughed. Knuckles pushed Michele into Biggs' arms, and the guys walked out.

"If you even so much as kiss me," warned Michele, "you will regret it."

"Is that so?" Biggs took Michele's face in his hands and kissed her.

A bolt of lightning hit the window, shattering the glass which exploded into the room. Face and Knuckles ran into the room, guns drawn, in time to see the mummy walk in the room.

"Ice that… whatever that is!" Biggs shouted.

Face opened fire. He hit the mummy six times with no effect. The mummy walked to Biggs and placed his decayed hands on Bigg's throat. He led him to the window and threw him out.

Then he turned to the hoods.

"Look," said Face. "I know dat you're angry about da shooting you thing, but I was just followin' orders! I'm only a pawn in da game of life."

The mummy pointed to Bernie and spoke in an ancient tongue.

"He wants you to untie my fiancee," said Michele.

Knuckles and Face quickly untied Bernie, who stood and rushed into Michele's arms.
"Who is that guy?" asked Knuckles.

The mummy roared.

"Must be a jealous boyfriend," said Face.

"No wonder he got upset when Biggs tried to kiss you," said Bernie, sadly. "I guess now that he's here, you and I can't…"

Michele lifted Bernie's drooping chin. "He's not my boyfriend. He's my father."

Bernie's eyes widened. "Your father?"

"He's okay with us getting married," said Michele.

The mummy nodded his consent.

"He just was angry that someone would try to spoil my purity before my wedding day," said Michele.

"That's right," said a deep bass voice. Everyone turned to see the decayed corpse had transformed into a handsome Pharoah. "Nobody messes with Daddy's little girl."

"He speaks English!" said Face.

"How is that possible?" said Bernie. "I spent months teaching Michele."

"The story's coming to an end," said the Pharoah. "I guess the writer just got a little lazy.

Michele laughed, then gave her father a hug. She introduced Bernie, and the Pharoah gave Bernie an approving handshake. He then turned to Knuckles and Face, who were inching towards the door.

"One moment," said the Pharoah. "I forgive your shooting me in the service of the evil one, but you are no longer in his employ. You will work for me now. You will help me get my stuff out of that museum, and then, you will work as my servants."

"I call the cook!" said Knuckles.

"You can't cook," said Face.

"No," admitted Knuckles. "But I've always wanted to try."

So the Princess wed her beloved Bernie, and the pair moved into a large mansion in the hills, bought for them by the Pharoah. The Pharoah, too bought a luxurious mansion in the Hollywood hills, where Knuckles and Face waited on them day and night.

And yes, Knuckles was the cook, and became quite accomplished in his pursuit of the culinary arts.

Copyright 2005 by John Cosper