Adventure Is Not Always So Amusing

I - and a few others in my adventurous party - slowly approach a desert city, in awe of the towering walls and open khaki-colored houses on top.

In a place some people might call a church, a monstrous wasp or mantis is suspended bottom-down by its thorax. The mottled brown exoskeleton blends with the intricately carved teak walls and the marbled flooring. The insect's head, far above, is invisible in the dimly flickering gas lamplight.
The shape of the abdomen causes condensing water to run to the point, where a large piece of papyrus has been spread underneath. Suspended like a pendulum, the insect wriggles and sways, forming intricate designs on the paper depicting each of four parts of our quest that will lead us to the ultimate treasure. The swirls and scribbles dissipate quickly, so we hastily memorize the next step. We hurry out of the room, afraid that we might soon become a meal.


In a strange house, everything is in shades of blue and grey. I glance out the window - we are perched on top of a hill - the town below glows with the aura of what must be death. I come to the conclusion that I am in an Alfred Hitchcock movie, and that the killer will soon be arriving here. Waiting, I lounge about in the kitchen as passing cars illuminate the refrigerator in locomotive bars of light.
A young, unpreposessing man steps from the bedroom closet. Genially, he asks me if I want some coffee, I decline, but he makes me some anyway, then pours some for himself.
"You don't have to kill all these people," I say. "It's just a movie."
He raises his eyebrows and grimaces into his coffee cup. "Obviously you know very little."