Amos clapped his hands. “Khufu!” I thought he’d sneezed, because Khufu is a weird name, but then a little dude about three feet tall with gold fur and a purple shirt came clambering down the stairs. It took me a second to realize it was a baboon wearing an L. A. Lakers jersey.
Back in Khufu's day I knew a magician who parted the Nile just so he could climb to the bottom and retrieve a girl's necklace. Then there was that Israelite fellow, Mickey. " "Moses?" "Yeah, him.
Amos sipped his coffee. "Sorry if that distubed you. Khufu's very picky. He only eats foods that end in -o. Doritos, burritos, flamingos. " I blinked. "Did you say-" "Carter," Sadie warned. She looked a little queasy, like she'd already had this conversation. "Don't ask.
It could hardly be made since the pyramids, it is thought, were erected in the predynastic age under the regency of Pharaoh Cheops. This pharaoh, who was also known as Khufu, lived between 2589 and 2566 BC, or one thousand years before the Hyksos (Levites) were ever heard of.
I will announce some of the tombs I found next to the great pyramid of Khufu. One is an intact tomb that I have not opened yet.
. . . Khufu who is believed to have been the pharaoh who commissioned the building of the great pyramid at Giza.
All [Sadie’s] previous attempts [of making a shabti (an Egyptian avatar of one’s self)] had exploded or gone haywire, terrorizing Khufu and the initiates. Last week she’d created a magical Thermos with googly eyes that levitated around the room, yelling, “Exterminate! Exterminate!” until it smacked me in the head.
I blinked the sleep out of my eyes and realized my head was in Khufu’s lap. The baboon was foraging my scalp for munchies. “Dude. ” I sat up groggily. “Not cool. ” “But he gave you a lovely hairdo,” Sadie said. “Agh-agh!” Khufu agreed.
All I heard was the blood rushing through my ears, and the distant rumble and crackle of the Lake of Fire. (And Khufu scratching himself and grunting, but that was nothing new. )
Lookin up at the huge baboons, I wondered if Khufu had some sort of secret baboon code that would get us in. But instead he barked at the statues and cowered heroically behind my legs.
Khufu carefully picked out everything that ended with-o—Doritos, Oreos, and some chunks of meat. Buffalo? Armadillo? I was scared to even ask.
Facinating. " He broke into a wide grin. "I've discovered something, Khufu. This is not Memphis, Egypt. " Khufu gave me a sideways look, and I could swear his expression meant, Duh. "I've also discovered a new form of magic called blues music," the man continued. "And barbecue. Yes, you must try barbecue.
I didn’t know baboons could drive recreational vehicles, but Khufu did okay. When I woke up around dawn, he was navigating through the early morning rush hour in Houston, baring his fangs and barking a lot, and none of the other drivers seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary.
