We swirl through time once more until we feel the now-familiar falling sensation.
Terry peeps out the top of the bin.
‘Can you see the building permit office?’ I say.
‘Um,’ he says, ‘does the building permit office look like a pyramid?’
‘No,’ says the inspector.
‘Then I think we might be in Ancient Egypt,’ says Terry. ‘All I can see is sand, a Sphinx, palm trees and a big gold-topped pyramid that we’re about to smash into.’
Finally, we come to a stop. A crowd of stunned-looking Ancient Egyptians are staring at the bottom of our bin.
‘You idiots!’ says one of them. ‘You just squashed the pharaoh!’
’Uh-oh,’ says Terry. ‘I think we just squashed the pharaoh, whatever that is.’
‘That’s the king of Ancient Egypt!’ I say. ‘This is bad. Very bad.’
The inspector shakes his head sadly. ‘If only people would take the trouble to install landing warning beepers on their time-travelling wheelie bins, this sort of unpleasant accident could easily be avoided.’
The pharaoh lets out a loud moan.
‘He’s still alive!’ says Terry.
‘Quick, let’s get the bin off him,’ I say.
We lift the bin off the pharaoh and help him to his feet.
‘Thank you!’ he says. ‘And now you must die!’
‘But we just saved your life!’ says Terry.
‘You also just squashed me with your sky chariot,’ says the pharaoh, ‘and the penalty for squashing the pharaoh is death. Guards—seize them!’
‘Now just hold on a minute!’ says the inspector.
‘Who are you?’ says the pharaoh.
‘Inspector Bubblewrap’s the name,’ says the inspector, ‘and inspecting buildings is my game.’ He hands the pharaoh his business card.
The pharaoh looks worried. ‘You’re a building inspector?’ he says.
‘Yes!’ says Inspector Bubblewrap. ‘Do you have a current and valid building permit for this pyramid?’
‘Why … er … yes,’ says the pharaoh, ‘of course I do.’
‘May I see it?’ says the inspector.
The pharaoh signals to a scribe, who brings over a scroll and hands it to Inspector Bubblewrap.
The inspector unrolls it and examines it closely.
‘Is this your signature?’ he says to the pharaoh.
‘Yes,’ says the pharaoh. ‘I sign and issue all my building permits myself.’
‘This is highly irregular,’ says the inspector.
‘I’ve never heard of anybody signing their own building permits. I’m afraid I’m going to need you to fill out a few forms. It will take a few minutes of your valuable time. And I’ll help you along with a form-filling rhyme.’
‘I’ll need you to complete
This building certificate.
Use black ink or blue
And I’d like it in triplicate.
And don’t forget to include
All your personal information:
Your star sign, your weight
And your marital situation.
I’ll also require
All your contact details:
Your home phone, your address
And both home and work emails.
You’ll need approval from council
So here’s an application.
And if your neighbours object
You’ll have to seek arbitration.
I’ll need to see blueprints
(From top to foundation)
And a 5000-hieroglyph essay
In support of your application.
You’re an owner-builder,
So I’ll need proof of your qualifications.
Even a pharaoh
Has to follow the regulations.’
I nudge the inspector to get his attention.
‘Is this really the best time to be worrying about whether the pharaoh has a permit for his pyramid?’ I whisper. ‘Shouldn’t we be trying to figure out how to avoid being put to death?’
‘That’s exactly what I am doing,’ says the inspector. ‘While he’s busy with the paperwork we can make our escape. Come on, let’s hide in the pyramid.’
We run through the doorway behind us and down a long corridor into a dark chamber.
‘Great work, Inspector!’ I say. ‘But how did you know the mummy would be scared of other mummies?’
‘Just a hunch,’ he says. ‘Let’s go!’
We head for a door on the far side of the chamber, squeeze through it … and fall straight through a trap dooooooooor!
We are in a pit of asps.
‘Okay, that’s quite enough screaming for one pit of asps!’ says the inspector. ‘We’re safely covered in bubble wrap so they can’t bite us.’
‘Yes, but how do we get out of the pit?’ I say.
The inspector shrugs and shakes his head sadly. ‘If only people would take the trouble to install emergency exits in their snake pits, this sort of dilemma could be easily avoided,’ he says.
‘We don’t need an emergency exit,’ says Terry.
‘We’ve got asps. We can charm them and use them as a ladder.’
‘Well that’s a great idea,’ I say, ‘but you need music to charm snakes, and as far as I know none of us brought our punjis.’
‘What’s a punji?’ says Terry.
‘It’s a wind instrument used to charm snakes,’ I say.
‘No, I don’t have one of those,’ says Terry. ‘But ‘I’ve got a balloon. That should work just as well.’
Terry blows the balloon up, pinches the neck and starts releasing the air in a high-pitched screech. Sure, it might not be everybody’s idea of beautiful music, but the snakes seem to like it.
The snakes rise up, swaying and threading themselves together until, eventually they form a ladder that leads right to the top of the pit.
We scramble up the snake ladder as fast as we can and make it to the top just as Terry’s balloon runs out of squeak and the ladder collapses.
‘Wow,’ says Terry, panting, ‘that was even more fun than our snakes and ladders level back in the treehouse!’
‘I’m not sure that “fun” is exactly the word I would use,’ says the inspector, ‘but, I must admit, I do feel quite … unusually … energised!’
I can hear shouting somewhere behind us.
‘We’d better keep moving,’ I say. ‘I think the pharaoh might have finished his paperwork.’
We run down a long corridor, keeping a careful watch for mummies and trapdoors.
‘Look!’ says Terry, pointing to a series of pictures on the wall. ‘It’s Barky the Barking Dogyptian!’
At the end of the corridor we come across two Ancient Egyptians working on the Barky cartoon.
‘It’s us again!’ says Terry. ‘Hi, Ancient Egyptian Andy and Terry!’
‘Who are you?’ says Ancient Egyptian Andy.
‘We’re your future selves!’ I explain.
‘Pleased to meet you!’ says Ancient Egyptian Andy.
‘Great Barky the Barking Dogyptian cartoon!’ says Terry.
‘Thanks!’ says Ancient Egyptian Terry.
Ancient Egyptian Andy rolls his eyes. ‘I think it’s dumb,’ he says.
‘I agree,’ I say. ‘High five, Ancient Egyptian Andy!’
‘Well, we’d love to stay and chat,’ I say, ‘but we’re being chased by the pharaoh’s guards. Is there a fast way out of here?’
‘Sure,’ says Ancient Egyptian Terry. He quickly scribbles a map on a piece of papyrus and hands it to me. ‘Just follow this.’
We say goodbye to our Ancient Egyptian selves and follow the map until at last we are back outside in the Ancient Egyptian sunlight. We peel off our bubble wrap as fast as we can. (That stuff is hot!)
‘Thank goodness we’re out of there,’ I say.
‘Yes,’ says the inspector. ‘That pyramid is so dangerous it makes the treehouse look positively safe!’
‘Uh-oh,’ I say. ‘Here come the guards. Run!’
We run. Behind us we hear the popping of the bubble wrap as the guards step on it.
‘Hey, this stuff is fun!’ says one.
They all stop, pick up handfuls of bubble wrap and start popping it like crazy.
We reach the bin, climb in and Terry resets the chronometer. We blast off and zoom up into the air through a cloud of sand.
‘Phew!’ says the inspector. ‘That was a close one.’ He takes off his hard hat and wipes his brow. ‘Oh dear …’
‘There’s an asp,’ he says.
‘Where?’
‘In my hat … no … hang on, it’s not in my hat any more. It’s in the bin somewhere.’
‘YIKES!’ screams Terry. The bin swerves out of control and heads towards a giant stone nose—the nose of the Great Sphinx!
‘Terry, watch out!’ I yell.
But it’s too late.
‘So that’s how the Sphinx lost its nose,’ says the inspector.
‘Another mystery solved!’ says Terry.
‘That’s all very well,’ I say, ‘but there’s still an asp in the bin!’
‘Not for long, though,’ says the inspector. He scoops the asp up in his hard hat, opens the lid and flings both the asp and his hat overboard.
‘Wow, that was brave!’ I say. ‘And risky!’
‘And just in time,’ says Terry. ‘Hold on, here we go againnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn …’
