Unfortunately Cilica was forced to delay her anthropological investigation by a series of locked doors…
“But I don’t understand.” She said in a slightly annoying and very ‘whiney’ voice. They’re all locked…from inside. Including the bathroom doors!”
This was, indeed, a strange mystery. One that, so far at least, Magnuss could not conjure up an answer to…
“I’m sorry.” Magnuss replied. “So far, at least, I’m unable to conjure up an answer to this strange mystery. Here, let me try the door.”
“Sure, why not?” A slightly tetchy Cilica responded. “Beat yourself up.”
With the door beyond the porch unwilling to yield to Magnuss’ shoulder barges, they decided to try some ‘flimsier looking’ entry points…
“This uncharacteristically vast window is singularly devoid of glass.” Cilica observed. “It may open on to some anteroom with a lightweight raffia of cane door.”
But she was wrong. Fortunately a strong wind several nights previous had blown in a seldom used portal…
“It looks like a coal hole.” Cilica observed further. “They are very popular with primitive societies. There’s probably a hatch in the back that will allow us ingress to the building proper. Primitive people never like going outside, after dark, when its raining.”
Of course, being an anthropologist, Cilica was entirely correct: and soon the dashing duo were exploring home after home in the simple mud village…
“It was the same with outside toilets.” Cilica continued to both educate and entertain Magnuss, as he peered into a foul smelling ‘privvy’. “Except, unlike coal holes, these tended to smell awful, so they seldom opened the access hatches.”
But Magnuss could only be educated and entertained for a limited period, and soon he began to have fun hiding from his colleague…
This didn’t meet with Cilica’s approval, and very quickly her patience snapped and she called out Magnuss’ name repeatedly, inserting several colourful expletives whilst doing so. Little did either young earplug know it, but they were not entirely alone. Cilica’s foul-mouthed misuse of the earplug language caught the attention of the mud village’s sole occupant. A blue polystyrene blob of unknown origin…
And it didn’t look best pleased.
© Paul Trevor Nolan 2018
