“Look, Omar. I really don’t care what you were told. We just don’t have the budget for all this.”

“You know something? You’re right, Malco. There’s really no point in protecting the fertility goddess. I suppose we should just gift wrap the golden idol for the Incans. We wouldn’t want to inconvenience them when they conquer our descendants.”

“That’s not what I meant—”

“Oh no. Of course not. We should just put a sign on the door that says ‘Grave Robbers and Treasure Hunters Welcome!’. Are you even listening to yourself?”

“No, Omar. I’m listening to the chief. He says three traps per temple. I budget for three traps. No more, no less. Now either you cut one or I’ll do it for you.”

“I’ve explained this a thousand times. They’ll be expecting only three traps! Once you get past the spikes, the rock wall, and the poison darts, the possibility of a self-destruct sequence involving a gigantic spherical boulder wouldn’t enter a thief’s darkest dreams. Don’t you see? It’s genius!”

“So you’re willing to let this whole temple get destroyed for the golden idol? Really? Have you even seen the thing? That smile is creepy.”

“You don’t give two toucans about preserving our peoples’ legacy, do you Malco?”

“No. I just don’t care about three pounds of gold that gives me the willies. Listen, I didn’t argue when the elders voted to place the damned thing in the center of the temple. And I didn’t complain when they decided to rig the sacred shrine with booby traps. But this temple has taken three generations of Chachapoyan labor to construct. My grandfather’s bones are a part of the foundations. I’m not going to install an elaborate deathtrap with a hairpin trigger that could take down the entire structure. So don’t stand there and tell me I don’t care about my heritage, Omar.”

“Okay, okay. Sheesh. You’ve made your point. But I should warn you, any funds left over from this project are going toward the temple they’re building around that spaceship in the Amazon.”

“That one with those ridiculous clear skulls?”


“On second thought, go ahead and tell the sculptors to start on that boulder of yours.”

¶ Forget The Hat at SnorgTees