Larry & Mick Go On an Archaeological Rampage - pt1: 'Doorstep'
'Ready?' said Larry.
'Ready!' said Mick.
And with a Yee-Haa! and a Whoop-Di-Doo!, they hopped on their scooters and headed for the first area of archaeological interest, as indicated on the map they had drawn, entitled 'Areas of Archaeological Interest.'
Larry was Indiana Jones.
Mick was Lara Croft.
Larry was looking forward to using his whip on all who stood between him and the Lost Treasures of the Ancient World.
Mick was looking forward to getting off the scooter, as its seat was causing his thighs to chaff a bit.
'You look gorgeous,' said Larry.
'I'm starting to worry about you,' said Mick.
'Perhaps you should have shaved your legs.'
'Perhaps I'm not Angelina Jolie.'
'Here we are then.'
'Our first Area of Archaeological Interest, as indicated on our self-penned map of Areas of Archaeological Interest.'
'But we've just gone up the road and come back again.'
'It's amazing what you'll find on your own front doorstep!'
'Where shall I start digging then?'
'There,' said Larry, as he pointed to the area in front of his finger.
Mick got off his scooter, got a chisel out of his utility belt and started chipping away at Larry's front doorstep. His bottom jiggled up and down in his tiny Lara Croft shorts as he did so.
'Could you please stop checking out my tight little buns, as I dig for archaeological treasures on your front doorstep?'
'That's okay, Larry.'
He chipped and he chiselled, and he grunted and groaned, and he sweated and jiggled, and his tiny Lara Croft shorts proved to be more impractical than you might think.
'Ooh, I'm chaffing in most impolite places.'
'Did I really need to know that?'
'I've got to say something to put you off perving over my pert rear.'
'I wasn't perving! I was merely admiring your technique.'
'Is there something you're not telling me, Larry?'
'About why you decided I was to be Lara Croft.'
'I thought the outfit would allow you freedom of movement.'
'Have you tried wearing these shorts?'
'And was there really any need for the grapefruits under the t-shirt?'
'I thought we might get thirsty.'
'What's wrong with a bottle of water?'
'That would just look stupid.'
'Not under my t-shirt!'
Mick stood, tossed down the chisel and wiped his dripping brow with his clip-on ponytail.
'Your turn,' said he, indicating the doorstep, which had a few scratches on it, but was otherwise untouched.
'Okay,' said Larry. 'Turn around.'
'I need to get to your knapsack.'
Mick tentatively turned around, pulling the soggy shorts material out from his impolite places and keeping one sharp eye on Larry. Then Larry opened up the miniscule knapsack (which really shouldn't have been able to hold more than a pencil, a spare pair of socks and a grape or two) and set about rummaging amongst medi-packs, boxes of shotgun ammo and keys for God-knows-what.
'Here it is!' he said, as he pulled out an enormous pickaxe, with which, as Mick watched on, agog, he pulverised the doorstep with two swift blows.
Larry & Mick coughed, as the dust cleared.
Like you do.
Larry delved amongst the wreckage.
He pulled out a mysterious-looking key.
He held it aloft.
'I have it!' he declared.
'What?' said Mick.
'The key to what? Pandora's Box? The Casket of Lost Souls? The Vault of Eternal Suffering?'
'Nah, the tool shed - I was wondering where that had got to.'
'No time to dawdle!' said Larry, as he pocketed the key and got back on his scooter. 'More archaeological rampaging to be done!'
'I don't see how this is a rampage,' said Mick, but he go on his scooter also.
... to be continued!