Last night, a mummy who goes by the name of Bezel, had himself dry cleaned, with disappointing results.

                         “I had requested the standard cleaning and pressing service, with the additional three thousand year old fabric, funk neutralizer,” said Bezel.  “I also wanted them to remove some sand that had collected up in my crotch area since wayyyyyyy back before Cleopatra declared Tuesday night as Ladies Night at all of the Great Pyramids.  Simple requests, right?  Not so much.  When the cleaners were done with me, my bandages were all in tatters, unraveling, and I looked like an outpatient in a West Baltimore Emergency Room.   And the sand that had been in my crotch area had somehow migrated into my hair, eyes, and mouth.  And you have no idea how three thousand year old mummified, crotch-seasoned sand tastes like… unless you’ve eaten a Taco Bell bean burrito.”

                       And with his bandages unraveled from his body, several scars, rotted internal organs, and questionable tattoo choices were now exposed.

                   “And those exposed tattoos on my body are the worst of my problems now,” Bezel said.  “Like… I have a tattoo of Nefertiti on my chest that is really, really awkward and pointless.   Because she and I broke up a long time ago.   I mean… right after the downfall of Ramesses II, which was right in-between 1275 BC and Woodstock.  And that tattoo is really hard to explain to my present girlfriend.  But it’s not as hard to explain as the one of King Tut that I have on my ass.”