Cleopatra, Genghis Khan, and Steve

By Jessica Brook Martinez

Steve leaned against the wall of the elevator and checked his watch. Just a few minutes after 2 a.m. A weird time to be alone with Genghis Khan and Cleopatra, but as a late-night stand-up comic, he’d seen stranger things. Maybe the situation would provide good material for his next bit. Sure sounded like a solid opening for a joke. A warlord, a queen, and a comedian walk into an elevator—But then what?

Steve took a loud slurp of his Pepsi, just to see what would happen. Genghis Khan scowled at him, the battle scars on his face twisting in contempt under the harsh fluorescent lighting.

Cleopatra raised a bemused, well-manicured brow. “I’ve watched mules imbibe with more elegance.” Her dark eyes sparkled with mischief.

Steve considered getting her number.

Suddenly, the elevator jerked to a stop, splashing Steve’s soda on his sweater. He looked down, automatically reaching to rub at the stain with his sleeve. Huh. There was no sign of a stain.

Genghis Khan swore and smashed his finger into the emergency button. “Curse this contraption! I demand assistance this minute.” When no response was forthcoming, he banged on the speaker. “We are stuck! If assistance is not sent immediately, heads will roll! Do you hear?”

Steve backed away slowly.

Cleopatra sighed and picked at a bright red acrylic nail. “Patience, Genghis. The assistance will come when the gods will it. Even when I was queen of all Egypt, there was much waiting to be done.”

Genghis Khan scoffed. “Not for the likes of me. I am a mighty conqueror, the first khagan of a great empire, a warrior without equal. Anyone who makes me wait for even a second will not live to see the light of another dawn.”

I better defuse the tension before my head is the first to roll. Steve eyed the warlord. Let’s try some new material. Intending a delivery as dry as a saltine cracker, Steve said, “I should’ve been a conqueror instead of a comedian. I bet I could’ve made a killing.”

Genghis Khan stared at him blankly. Cleopatra shook her head, black braids jostling from side to side. The hint of a wry smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

Was she impressed? Steve stood up a little straighter. “I’ve never conquered the world, but once I was offered a chance to loan it out. However, I didn’t have the interest.”

Genghis Khan rubbed his face. Annoyed or calming down? Just to be safe, Steve pressed on. “My mom bought me a certificate that said I could name a star. I changed Cher’s name to Gregory.”

“Enough.” Genghis Khan drummed his fingers against a leather sheath hanging off his belt. “I am warning you, comedian.”

Steve swallowed and gripped his Pepsi.

Cleopatra stepped between the two men and placed a hand on Genghis Khan’s broad chest.  “Easy, Genghis. Let the fool speak. His babble amuses me. And we need something to pass the time while we wait for assistance, no?” She nodded at Steve. “Proceed.”

He wasn’t sure if that was a good idea—but it was hard to deny a face like that.

“My mom is often mad at me,” Steve said.

“Why is that?” Cleopatra asked.

“Most years I miss her birthday.”

“When is it?” Cleopatra said.

“February twenty-ninth.”

Cleopatra laughed out loud, a beautiful sound, like chimes tinkling in the wind. Steve grinned. Genghis Khan growled low in his throat, but at a look from Cleopatra, he turned away and paced the small space, his leather boots hitting the floor with heavy, plodding steps. He rested a hand on his sheath and muttered under his breath.

Steve tugged at the collar of his turtleneck. Was it getting warmer in here? Well, a good comedian didn’t stop his jokes for a tough crowd—not even Genghis Khan. And if he could make Cleopatra laugh even more, it might be easier to get her digits. Would an ancient Egyptian have a cellphone? He almost chuckled himself. That was hardly the strangest thing about this situation. He took one look at her long lashes and decided not to overthink things too much.    

He cleared his throat. “So my girlfriend dumped me a year ago after I missed our last date. She scheduled it for 2:30 a.m. on the first day of Daylight Savings.”

“That’s it!” Genghis Khan yanked a long, jagged dagger out of its sheath.

“Leave him!” Cleopatra flung out her arms.

Ignoring her, Genghis Khan swung the knife toward Steve’s throat.

Move! Steve willed himself, but he was frozen in fear.

The blade passed through Steve’s neck without effect. Well. Steve stared at the furious and confused warlord towering over him and took a deep breath. That’s pretty nifty. It’ll certainly come in handy when hecklers throw tomatoes at me.

“By the gods!” Cleopatra paled.

“What sorcery is this?” cried Genghis Khan.

Steve glanced down at his watch. It was 2:30 a.m. Interesting coincidence. “What happens to the hour between 2 a.m. and 3 a.m. on Daylight Savings Time when we spring forward? Do they store it and save it for later? Or”—he winked at Cleopatra—“do they just decide that everything that happens during that time doesn’t exist?”

Cleopatra balled her fingers into fists. “What is happening? I demand you tell us!”

“Today is the first day of Daylight Savings Time,” Steve explained.

Cleopatra and Genghis Khan stared at each other. The Mongolian furrowed his brow, slowly running his fingers through his beard.

Cleopatra whirled and beat a fist against the wall. “What in the name of Heru does that have to do with anything?”

Steve shrugged and drank the rest of his Pepsi. Or did he?

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jessica Brook Martinez is a non-profit writer, cancer survivor, fibromyalgia survivor, and Muslim convert. She has traditionally published seventeen short works of fiction, one work of poetry, and has won two Ron Hubbard Writers of the Future awards. She has written for non-profits, heavy metal magazines, and has worked as an editor for a variety of published works.

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