BEYOND THE VELVET ROPES:  The continuing saga of the inner workings of a
typical museum:  work work work, no pay, work work work, still no pay, work
work work, sex in the gift shop.

Episode 4:  Curators of the Lost Ark

Cast of Characters:
Cynthia
Edward
Imelda
Peapod Beetlebox
Ensemble

Scene 1:  The observation deck of a space ship.  On view outside the windows
is a panorama of Ursa Major.  A lone figure leans against the velvet ropes
encircling the deck, and stares off into the universe, lost in thought.
 Edward enters, carrying a tiny package.  Imelda follows close behind.

Edward:  Cynthia, it's here!  Fresh off the digital press, "The Curator's
Guide to the Universe:  The Ultimate Collection of Everything from
Everywhere."  And look, it comes with a nifty make-your-own-museum
microscopic-ultra-inflatable interactive and a limited edition pair of cotton
gloves, all in a handy lignin-free package!

Cynthia turns toward Edward and grunts:  Hmm.
Edward:  I'm already working on the education packets and traveling trunks.
 Ooooh.  I haven't been this excited since Grandma Peterson, founder of our
old historical society, died and left it her collection of 1273 individual
items of crocheted doll house furniture made from yarn, old tuna fish tins,
and torn pantyhose.
Cynthia:  I can't believe I actually had to accession that stuff, especially
after that problem with the cats... But anyway, thanks for the "Guide," I
guess.

Peapod enters and joins the group.
Imelda:  You don't seem very excited, Cyn.  After all, we held up production
in anticipation of your entry:  "Earth Curators:  Don't Even ATTEMPT to
Understand Us Because You Never Will."  The reviews are outstanding.
Cynthia:  I know.  I'm just a bit down.  I guess I've discovered that life in
the perfect museum isn't all it's cracked up to be.  I need PROBLEMS,
annoyances--anything to make it a challenge.  It just isn't any fun when
people actually WANT to visit us and learn something, when funding is easy to
get, when volunteers do everything right the first time, when trustees
haven't existed since that nasty guillotine episode back in the last
millenium.
Edward:  You mean...you actually want to go back to earth?
Cynthia:  It's not that, really.  I just can't stay HERE anymore.  I need
TRAUMA, frenzy, anything to get the adrenaline pumping again.  I can't stand
being around so many nice and accommodating people!

Peapod:  I may have the solution.  It seems some intergalactic scoundrels are
plundering sites on distant worlds.  This simply will not do.  We--that is,
the "we" who decide such things--are looking for a few good museum types to
track them down and bring them to justice.  Are you up for the challenge?
Cynthia:  Wow!  This is the job I've been waiting for!  I'm ready as soon as
I pack up a few extra pairs of plain cotton gloves.  I got caught once
wearing that sure-grip style with added traction, and it made for a bumpy
space flight.  Are you coming, Edward?

Edward, glancing sheepishly at Imelda and blushing ever so slightly:  Well, I
think I'll stay here.
Imelda:  You see, Cyn, Eddie and I are sort-of a couple.
Cynthia:  A couple of what?
Edward:  A couple.  You know, DATING.
Cynthia:  Oh!  I guess there's some sort of symmetry in that...  Educator and
interpreter--two different species, but of the same general bent.  I shudder
to think about your potential offspring, though.  Just don't get caught
necking in the stalactite/stalagmite dioramas.  I hear there was a terrible
scene in there a while back when some of the interns lost their balance...

Cynthia, glancing at her watch:  Hey, it's HAPPY HOUR.  How 'bout one for the
road?
Peapod, Cynthia, Edward and Imelda head over to the bar for a drink and guava
jelly canapes.  Peapod then leads Cynthia off stage.  The lights fade.

Scene 2:  The docking bay of the space ship.  A small, red, rectangular space
craft is on the launching pad.  Peapod and Cynthia are walking around the
perimeter, and Peapod is gesturing in wide, sweeping movements of his 4 arms.

Peapod:  Well, Cynthia, this is it--your new home away from home.  To divert
suspicion, it looks like an ordinary telephone-box/exhibition-space from the
outside.  Of course, the interior is in the fourth dimension and stretches on
in perpetuity.  Decorate however you wish, though only in reproductions, of
course.  I hope you like it:  we would have given you a blue policeman's box,
but that was claimed by another.
Cynthia:  Thanks, Peapod.  I'll do my best.  I'm sure this will be an
excellent adventure.

Cynthia steps into the space ship and closes the door.  In a moment, the box
begins to rattle, and disappears in a puff of smoke.  The lights fade.

Scene 3:  Several months have passed.  The red spaceship has landed in the
middle of what appears to be a huge field of artichokes stretching as far as
the eye can see.  In a puff of smoke, the doors open and Cynthia emerges.
 She is an awesome presence, wearing a black lab coat, black lycra pants,
black t-shirt, with black boots and a black floppy hat tipped low over her
eyes, which are covered by black sunglasses.  On her hands are crisp, clean,
white cotton gloves.  Her hands are on her hips.  She moves out into the
crowd of startled "amateur archaeologists" who are plundering the shrine to
the artichoke goddess, Thistlesta.  Cynthia raises her hand to point at them.

Cynthia, in a commanding voice:  Halt!  These are artifacts.  They belong in
a museum!

The thieves immediately drop their loot in fear and trembling, and make a
dash for the hills.  At this precise moment, a blue police box drops from
overhead and lands smack on top of Cynthia's head.  The stage goes black.

Scene 4:  A small crowd is huddled around something in the middle of the
floor of the stage.  As they move aside, we see that it is Cynthia, and that
she is struggling to get up.  As the lights get brighter, the setting is
visible:  it is the entry hall of an historic house museum.

Cynthia:  Wh...What happened?
Edward:  Oh, Cynthia, we were so worried!
Imelda:  You were trampled by a crowd of teenagers in their mad rush to the
gift shop.  Don't you remember?
Cynthia:  I...  I guess I must have been dreaming.  I thought you were an
alien, and Edward and you, well, I won't go into details.  And I thought the
interns were these slimy creatures from another planet.  Anyway, help me up.

Edward and Imelda each grab an arm and help Cynthia to stand.  Cynthia moves
downstage, away from the others.  As she walks, she shakes her head, softly
smacking her right and then her left ears.  She stops abruptly, and faces the
audience with a strange, frightened look in her eyes.  She reaches deep into
her ear canals, and slowly extracts two gummi bears.  The lights fade to
black.

The end.
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For episodes 1 through 3, contact

Melanie Solomon
[log in to unmask]

I welcome any suggestions for further adventures of our heroic museum
staffers.