Spark Versus the Mummy

By Stoney M. Setzer

Spark ran through the brush, desperately trying to escape the T-Rex crashing through the jungle behind him. At last, he broke into a clearing. The amulet that the old gypsy had given him provided the only control he had over the curse—not that it was much. The trinket knew only two commands—“random” and “previous”—and Spark shuddered at the thought of returning to that last world, a disgusting realm made entirely of pickles.

He clutched the amulet to activate it. “Random!” he shouted.

In a flash of light, the jungle and the dinosaur roars were gone, and before Spark could wonder where he would land this time, he was greeted by screams and the rat-tat-tat of gunfire.

Dust and sand assaulted Spark’s nostrils. Am I in a mummy’s tomb—again? What is this, the third time now, or the fourth? At least this time I didn’t arrive right in the middle of the funeral ceremony—that was awkward…

 But if I am in a tomb, there has to be treasure nearby.

And there it was, just to his left, piled high, illuminated by flickering torchlight. More than he could possibly carry, but no matter. A pocketful or two would still be—

Another gunshot. Turning, Spark saw a mustachioed man and a blonde woman, both in pith helmets, backed into a corner. The man held a pistol and was shielding the screaming woman as best he could. Across from them, a huge mummy shuffled toward them, leaving several corpses in its wake. Defending its treasure from these invaders, no doubt. And these two were about to be its next victims.

Spark chewed his fingernails in consternation. He could swipe some treasure and escape with his life before the mummy saw him. But Mr. Mustachio and Blondie were goners unless someone intervened—unless Spark intervened.

The taste of his own blood forced him to yank his fingernails away from his mouth. Spark didn’t want to risk his neck, but something deep inside wouldn’t allow him to cut and run. Not a good time for his conscience to start acting up.

An idea came from out of the blue. Maybe there’s a way to have my cake and eat it too. If I can save their lives, maybe they’ll think it’s worth a reward.

“Hey, Stink-Ho-Tep!” Spark shouted. His voice echoed through the tomb. “Are you too chicken to take me on?”

The mummy turned. Ancient bandages covered everything except his wide-eyed disbelief.

Somebody behind him was yelling, but Spark paid it no attention. “You heard me, Scarab Breath! Come and get me, unless you’re as yellow as my suit!” Spark motioned at his garish banana-yellow outfit. “Look, I’m even going to take some of your treasure!” He crammed a handful of baubles into his pocket. The mummy didn’t move.

In a British accent, the man in the pith helmet cried, “I say, what are you…”

“Hush, old chap!” Spark countered in a deliberately bad imitation. “I’ve got this!” The mummy has to be touching me for this to work. But why wait around?

Lowering his head and shoulders and reaching for the amulet, Spark charged the mummy. As soon as he made contact, Spark shouted the only other command that the amulet accepted, really the only advantage it offered over just randomly jumping through space and time. “Previous!”

Lightning flashed, and the smell of dust was replaced by that of jungle foliage. The ground shook violently as a deafening roar pierced the air.  A second later, the T-Rex came into sight.

“You hungry, Rexie?” Spark shouted. “I don’t have a sandwich, but how about a wrap instead?” He pushed the mummy—too overwhelmed to offer resistance—toward the dinosaur and grabbed the amulet. “Previous!”

Another flash of light, and Spark returned to where he had been immediately before— back inside the tomb, facing the people he had just saved.

“I said cut!”

Spark spun, now facing a film crew glaring directly at him. “What is going on here?” barked the balding man in the director’s chair—the same voice he had ignored moments before.

“You tell me!” Spark countered, looking around. The people he’d thought to be dead were now sitting up, staring at him.

“We’re shooting a commercial! Now where’s Hal?”

“Hal?”

“The actor in the mummy costume!” cried the Englishman.

“Actor? You mean…” Spark’s eyes widened in horror. “Previous!”

In the blink of an eye, the tomb—or the set built to resemble one—was replaced by the jungle. Hal the mummy was within arm’s reach, cowering in fear. A dark shadow covered them, and the T-Rex’s breath blasted from above. Coming in fast.

Spark grabbed Hal with one hand and the amulet with the other. “Previous!” he shouted just as the T-Rex’s slimy jaws closed down over them. When they rematerialized, both men fell to the floor.

“I’ll take my reward now,” Spark gasped, wiping globs of dino drool off his face.

“Reward?” the director exclaimed as someone tended to Hal, who had passed out. “Who said anything about a reward?”

“If not for me, Hal would be dead. I pulled him from the jaws of doom—literally.”

“If not for you, he wouldn’t have even—”

“Details, details,” Spark interrupted. “My valor ought to be worth some of that treasure…But wait, that’s probably fake, isn’t it?”

The director rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

“Fine, fine,” Spark grunted. “I guess being a free man is reward enough. What is this commercial for, anyway?”

“Diller Pickles, if you must know!”

Spark gasped. “I went to that much trouble for an actor selling the nastiest food in the multiverse? You’ve got to be kidding me!” He grabbed the amulet. “Random!”

As the light flashed once more, he hoped that he would end up as far away from pickles as he could get.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Stoney M. Setzer lives south of Atlanta, GA. He has a beautiful wife, three wonderful children, and one crazy dog, and he is also a die-hard Atlanta Braves fan. He has written a trilogy of novels about small-town amateur sleuth Wesley Winter and a short story anthology entitled Zero Hour featuring Twilight Zone–like stories with Christian themes.

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