Starring:
 furrific1 as Tubby T

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Hey. Remember me? It’s Tubby T. Sorry I’ve been away, but I was on vacation in Egypt. Nothing much happened, but I have the strangest story to share.


It all starts when I take a tour of an archaeological dig site. I follow the group of various furs also on the tour. Of course, I also use them to hide me and my snacks from the tour guide. I eat and halfway listen to what the male donkey guide says. It kinda bores me, but I go along with them because my genealogy tracks all the way to me being of Egyptian ancestry. I hope that I could see a hieroglyph of one of my relatives or something. As we walk by folks digging for buried history, I continue to look around the site, snack, listen to a word my guide says then snack some more.

Apparently, I chew too loud because the next thing I hear is my guide saying, “I smell corn chips. Who’s eating?”

Slowly, my fellow tourist step to the side, parting like the Red Sea, and reveals my secret snacking feats.

The guide says, “Excuse me sir, but like I said at the start of the tour, eating is prohibited as we venture through this delicate site. We don’t want to compromise any discovery. Now, put the food away or you’ll be escorted from the tour. Is that clear?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I mumble.

“What was that?” he asks me.

“I said alright,” I falsely clarify. I then put the chips back into my backpack and mumble, “Ass.”

We continue the tour into a pyramid that our guide says is a new discovery in itself. The donkey tells us that the pyramid seems to be older than all of the others yet no one truly knows about it. He states that it is believed to be the resting ground for the true first pharaoh of Ancient Egypt.

Not really paying attention, I glance at the etchings on the pyramid’s walls. I notice one that is particularly interesting. The picture shows a rather large tiger setting a table full of ancient foods.

I point to it and ask the ass, “Who is the tiger portrayed here? He has to be the pharaoh.”

“You are absolutely wrong,” the guide tells me, “He was known as Eets-al Ofit, the royal chef. Unfortunately, he died shortly after the pharaoh. Since the pharaoh loved food, he was entombed here also. His eternal chamber is located down that hall. However, the tour is nearly over, so if you all would follow me, we’ll leave the pyramid.”

I follow the group who follows the tour guide back out of the pyramid. I constantly look back at the hall where Eets-al Ofit’s tomb is. I also wonder if he was the ancestor I want to find. I pat my belly and it reminds me of the likeness we share. I just have to find out. I stop walking as my tour group continues on to the exit. I start to head back.

Suddenly, all of the lights shut off. I guess that was the last tour for the day. I start to hyperventilate. I frantically search in the dark for my inhaler, but what I find is my smartphone, which has the flashlight app. After I locate my inhaler to restore regular respiration, I activate the light and shine it around me.

I locate the door and I go to get out of there. I try to open it and sigh when I realize it’s now locked. I begin to yell, in hopes one of the archaeologist outside can hear me. I stop yelling when I hear what sounds to be moaning coming from further inside the pyramid. I shine my light into the hall behind me. I hear the moans get louder. The sound of heavy footsteps then follows. Now afraid, I stand there petrified.

I turn around and bang on the door. I yell, “SOMEONE GET ME OUTTA HERE!”

The footsteps get closer and the moans get louder.

With my back to the door, I reach into my backpack to find something I could use for a weapon. I shine my light down the hall and go, “I got a …” I remove my hand from the bag and continue, “Chicken leg?” I pause then finish, “Don’t make me use it.”
Just then, a mummified fur steps into the light and stops. Since he isn’t fully wrapped, I see that his body stayed intact throughout his afterlife. It then occurs to me that he must have been bigger before decomposition set in. He doesn’t actually have an evil expression on his face. In fact, his eyes are fixed on the chicken leg I wield to defend myself. The hungry look in his eyes tells me that drool would soak his maw, that is, if he could still salivate.

I hold out the chicken leg to offer it to him.

He slowly approaches me then takes it. He sits on the floor, lifts the bandage over his mouth and begins to ferociously eat it.

While he eats, I ask, “Are you Eets-al Ofit?”

He grunts in confirmation.

“You sure was hungry,” I say as he cleans the meat off of the bone.

He grunts again, but in a slightly higher pitch this time.

I tell the mummy, “I don’t know what that means, but I bet spending thousands of years in a pyramid builds a monstrous appetite.”

The former royal chef grunts in a way similar to laughter.

“Let’s see what else I have,” I say as search my back pack for more food. I hope I didn’t eat all of it, but one can never know with me.

Then, my phone dies and now it is pitch black in here. I don’t know what to do now. Suddenly, I hear constant grunting from my afterlife amigo. It sounds as if he is by the exit. After a few grunt, light shine though where Eets-al removed a giant brick from the pyramid’s structure. I no longer see him so I hurry through the hole. I now see the dead fat guy (or fat dead guy) slowly making his way toward a 24-hr Convenience Store.

I instantly thought, “Who in their right mind would open a store in the middle of the dessert.” Then I remember that there are lots of tourist and scientist here all the time visiting and studying the pyramid.

Enough about that, I follow the mummy into the store. The female lynx cashier greets him as if there isn’t anything unusual about an ancient deceased guy coming into the store. I look at her peculiarly. Eets-al just stands there looking at the various snack cakes.

The cashier says, “I guess your friend isn’t sure of his after dinner snack.”

I reply, “More like after life snack.”

“You can’t fool me,” she tells me, “People come in here all the time dressed as mummies.”

“No fooling,” I go, “He’s the real thing. I think he’s actually my ancestor.”

“Please,” the lynx says impatiently, “Just don’t break anything while you’re here.”

Eets-al picks up a cream filled snack cake and grunts.

“What?” wonders the cashier.

“I think he wants to know if he can eat it,” I respond, “Don’t worry. I’ll pay for it.” I nod to Eets-al.

“What is he doing?” the cashier asks me.

I look at my possible relative as he bites through the plastic wrapping.
Eets-al grunts in disgust.

“No, no, no,” I say as I go to his side. I then unwrap another snack cake and demonstrate how to properly eat them.

The cashier goes, “I hope you’re paying for that one too.”

“I am,” I assure her, “In fact, I’d like to buy every one you have on the shelf.

I take my arm and clear the shelf of snack cakes, having them fall to the floor. Then I sit on the floor. Eets-al sits on the floor too, across from me. I show him once again how to remove the wrapper from the cake. Good thing he learns fast. In a few minutes, he’s just unwrapping, biting then unwrapping another. I try to keep up with him, but he must’ve mastered speed eating when he was alive. Before I can eat my 12th cake, I feel too full to continue. I also feel pride as to how swollen my gut now is. My belly now outgrows my souvenir t-shirt.

Meanwhile, my mummified friend still continues his rapid pace of ingestion. Since I’m too full, I decide to unwrap the cakes for him to speed his eating. The cashier looks at us with wonder and admiration, for she personally stocked 50 cream filled snack cakes on the shelf and we nearly have eaten every one of them. After Eets-al’s 30th cake, he holds his enormous gut and moans. Next, I hear what sound like paper tearing. I look back at the mummy and see that the bandages around his big belly has now ripped. I close my eyes as I laugh wildly.

The next thing I hear is the tour guide’s voice repeatedly calling me.

I open my eyes slowly and go, “Huh?”

The donkey rejoices, “You’re still with us.”

I stand and asks, “What’s going on? Where’s the mummy?”

“Mummy?” wonder the confused tour guide, “There’s no mummy. You must’ve been dreaming.”

“Dreaming?” I go, now confused too.

“You see, you slipped on this wrapper and you hit your head,” the guide tells me,

“Now, let’s get out of here before a real mummy comes after us.” He then hands me the wrapper and warns, “Next time, you won’t eat on my tour.”

I look at the wrapper and go, “But I didn’t have a … cream filled snack cake.”