Night guards patrolled the new museum repository as crates were unloaded. Northwest made his way surprised at his own temerity inside the vast archives undetected like clockwork. "How cool was that? I can't believe nobody saw it." The hunter opened the container of a furious-looking Polynesian idol, but then came a change of fortune to the worst form of Mercury in retrograde unlucky. He was captured and placed in a holding area.
After the museum director heard that the globetrotting man of action and many skills was in the tomb he scoffed, "We'll turn prisoner number 307 over to gen pop after the opening ceremony, but for now bury the archaeologist's paperwork. And make sure he doesn't have any toothbrushes to sharpen!"
"Do they have a pen pal program?" Do you know how to make toilet wine? Should I get a face tattoo? I'm too pretty for the pokey." Northwest joked through the stir bars when Angela came to visit. He continued to say how strange things had been occurring as if the soul of Dr. Ravenscroft was connected to the timepiece, sort of like a genie trapped in a bottle, guiding him to restore something to its rightful place. "Can you think of a treasure that sounds like, really really cursed that your father would want us to find?"
Angela raised her index fingers to her temples with an intense stare. "Believe me when I say; should you continue to follow this path you will witness, with your own eyes, the fulfillment of the curse upon my father." Then she turned to leave while speaking in a foreign language because his story was too extraordinary to consider.
"God forbid you ever come to my defense." Northwest became irritated at the essentia of Dr. Ravenscroft for allowing him to fail. A security camera in the sterile room watched as the treasure seeker sat on a cot studying a spider nearby spin its web and wondered if he was losing his mind. An unusual chain of events led a set of building keys dropping in front of the cell door. The adventurer reclined on the folding bed and then cocking an eyebrow shot a pointed look at the needlessly big ring of keys. "Here we go. Are you second cousin to Harvey the rabbit... and twelve?" he asked his unseeable cellmate. He argued that the unit was heavily guarded and he didn't like the odds of escape so if the visiting professor wanted him to leave museum jail, then the hitchhiking ghost in the machine had to get rid of the guards and open the door all magically and awesome. "Tick-tock," he said rolling over to sleep jutting his smartwatch arm straight in the air, "By the way, this wearable is solar powered and counts my steps!" The golden watch slipped from his pocket suspended by the fob chain. The wonderwork flipped open flashing the ruby palace of illusions rotating on its axis like a lighthouse beacon.
The sun dressed in its brightest beams to stream into the airy modern museum and zoological garden gala event. Angela stood beside the director while he unveiled a vitrine containing the unfriendly tiki with its face frozen in a silent scream. As the administrator introduced the statue to visitors it was obvious he did not believe the obligatory superstition, but purred like a kitten explaining that the soul of whoever disturbed the tiki's rest would remain earth-bound without reprieve or redemption until the idol was returned to its altar. The orator concluded by proclaiming the conversation piece was a prized exhibit in their permanent collection being an honor to preserve under the International Treaty for the Protection of Antiquities; and that Angela's father, Professor Ravenscroft discovered it.
