Author(s): Anonymous
Lengths: 1,600 words; 4,500 words; 5,000 words
Publisher: None
Ratings: 3/5; 2/5; 4/5
Short-and-Stupid synopses:
1.) A random guy tells the Pharaoh's right-hand-man a cool story about a magic island and a dragon. 2.)A random guy has adventures around Egypt.
3.) A peasant is just living the life and some dick tries to take advantage over him and steal stuff. The peasant provides strong reasoning why the dick is a dick.
Favorite Quote: "Then said this Dehuti-necht, when he saw the asses of this peasant which appealed to his covetousness: "Oh that some good god would help me to rob this peasant of his goods!""
These three Egyptian short stories were relatively enjoyable; nothing amazing, compared to 'Gilgamesh', but fun and light. I think it was "The Eloquent Peasant" that I was most drawn to and that seemed to be the most relatable.
It was my second year of college and I was in a tight bind. My car had decided to fail on me on a hot day. I was coming back to my apartment after a weekend at my parent's and, as I approached a stoplight just blocks away from my home, the engine stopped and smoke began to roil out from under the hood. Panicking (I was on a busy stretch of highway that was under construction and cars were honking their horns incessantly behind me), I rolled down the window and waved cars by. I quickly dialed 911 and informed them my car was on fire in the middle of the highway (it wasn't, but I wasn't thinking at that point; fear controlled every ounce of my consciousness). A gentleman kindly helped me put my car into neutral and we rolled it off the highway together, into the parking lot of, ironically, an automobile repair shop.
Thankfully, my parents stepped in to assist me and decided to let me use their blue station wagon in the meantime, so that I was able to get to school without too much hassle.
One night, after a fun date with my wife, we pulled the station wagon into a city parking lot near several municipal buildings. I had parked in this lot dozens of times before and had occasionally received a ticket for parking much longer than I should have been. I knew that it was illegal to leave my car overnight, but it was the only lot I could rely on that was next to my apartment building. I'd tried leaving my car in a gravel lot near a street of bars, but had had a poor experience when a drunk slammed into the passenger side door of my car, leaving a sizeable dent. I wasn't about to risk my mother's beloved blue station wagon (lovingly nicknamed 'The Blue Whale') to some idiot with a desire to receive a DUI. So, that evening, a Sunday, I parked the station wagon in the lot and we went up to my apartment. I had to drive my wife back home in a few hours, so I didn't think leaving my car in the lot for two or three hours would be a big deal. I also didn't think it would be a big deal to leave two large mesh bags full of all my clean laundry in the car, along with my backpack containing my textbooks. I didn't want to walk up three flights of stairs with all that laundry just yet.
I make mistakes and am sometimes naïve about the goodness of the world.
When I returned with my wife a few hours later, we discovered my car was not there. Where did it go? My only thought -- and I am completely serious -- was: "Oh. It must have been towed, because I'm not supposed to park here." Never mind the fact that it was Sunday. So, I did what every intelligent person in this situation would do -- leave the problem and solve it the next day. Everything would be all right.
I woke up the following day and decided to walk a few blocks down to the mall where my wife worked as a cashier at a Hallmark. I stepped out of my apartment building, crossed the road, and I happened to notice that my station wagon was sitting in the gravel lot.
That's funny. I didn't park there, I thought to myself. And then it hit me and a wave of anxiety completely washed over me. I darted across the road, ignoring the traffic, and gazed inside. The car was a complete mess: my textbooks and papers were scattered everywhere, the panel under the steering wheel had been ripped off and wires were dangling as if the dashboard had been gutted, the sound system had been torn out, and my laundry -- every article of clothing except for what I was wearing at the time -- was gone. I raced the few blocks to the Hallmark in complete terror. When I saw my wife I began sobbing uncontrollably. As I leaned my head against her, sitting in the break room of the store, my nose began to gush blood and it smeared all over her clean white shirt.
I was the victim of almost grand theft auto. My parents were going to disown me and everything was terrible. Nothing made sense and oh man that's a lot of blood.
In the end, my parents were completely fine and, in all honesty, everyone around me sort of thought it was funny. Who would honestly steal the clothing of a six-and-a-half foot tall, 300 lb. man? I secretly hoped that the thieves were obese criminals who needed a new wardrobe. I was able to shrug off that experience and laugh about it, given a few weeks.
Today, I wondered about the crippling anxiety I experience whenever I have to do normal adult life things, like get gas or go grocery shopping. Getting dressed and going out in public is as nearly as panic-inducing as I felt in those moments of seeing my mother's station wagon in that gravel lot. How did I come to this?
Image courtesy of Experience Ancient Egypt.
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