Pseudonymous Bosch - You Have to Stop This

Copyright 2011 by Pseudonymous Bosch

Illustrations copyright 2011 by Gilbert Ford

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

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First eBook Edition: September 2011

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Of course, you know what they say about good intentions.

ISBN: 978-0-316-19466-2

WITH SECRET THANKS TO
SB, JH, AND MP

AND TO MY MOM,
WHO STILL HELPS ME WITH MY HOMEWORK

A n ibis stood, silent and still, on the shore of the Nile.

Below him, birds dove into the rivers murky shallows, vainly stabbing at frogs and fish. Occasionally, one or two rose victorious out of the water, dangling their dripping prey from their beaks. The other birds squawked in jealousy. But the ibisthe sacred ibis, as the Egyptian variety of the species is knownseemed unaware of the commotion around him.

With his snow-white body, ink-black head, and long, curved beak, he looked proud, elegant, inscrutable.

He took no notice of the villagers washing their linens on the rocks. Nor of the fishermen passing by in their reed boats. When children threw stones at the other birds, they flapped their wings in fright; the ibis kept his wings closed around his body like a shell. Only the brief appearance of a crocodile crawling through the papyrus plants caused the ibiss feathers to ruffle; and even then, his stick-like legs never moved.

For hours, the ibis stared unwaveringly at the horizon. It was as if he were waiting for a signala red flag, say, or a puff of smokebut the sun set, the moon rose, the stars twinkled, and still he did not stir.

Then, well after more cautious birds had retired to their nests, the ibis suddenly and without warning spread his wings and jumped into the air. He flew swiftly and purposefully across the Nile, his slender neck stretched forward into the night, his wide, white wings illuminated from behind by the brilliant light of the Saharan moon.

Elsewhere in the desert, on the steep stone steps of a temple to the god Thoth, an innocent man was being executed by order of the pharaoh.

There was no way the ibis could have heard the condemned mans cries, let alone have read the fateful secret the man had inscribed only a moment before on a piece of papyrus. And yet it almost seemed the ibis was heeding his call.

a) A short time ago, in a land uncomfortably close by

b) He was a dark and stormy knight.

c) He was the best of mimes.
He was the worst of mimes.

d) This book looks lame. Im watching TV.

e) Run!

O K, youve waited long enough. Let me put you out of your misery right now.

I will reveal the Secreta secret that people have sought for centuries, for millennia evenon the very next page.

Well, maybe the next page

The next?

No, no, I cant. Its much too soon.

If I tell you the Secret now, you wont want to read any further, will you?

Ill do it before the end of this book.

I promise.

Maybe.

It depends on a few things.

For instancehow you look at it.

Are you really sure you want to know the Secret, anyway?

Revealing a secret is a bit like releasing air from a balloon: the secret spirals around and makes a fun noiseand if you aim right, it might even hit somebody in the nosebut afterward it always falls to the ground, and everyone is left with that sad, after-the-balloon feeling of loss and abandonment.

That doesnt sound very satisfying, does it?

Then again, when have you known me to satisfy anything but my own cravings for chocolate?

Honestly, I dont know why you bother to read a word I write. If you want to give up on me now, I understand completely. Never mind all the time ).

Nows your chance to escape. Dont worryI wont look. Ill just close my eyes and have a nibble of this delicious bar of dark, dark

Hmmgh well, maybe just one more hmmgh

No? Youre staying put? Stubborn, arent you? Or just morbidly curious?

I know, this book is like a car accident. You dont want to stareyou just cant help it.

If its any comfort, your old friend Cass is anything but satisfied at the time this story begins. She, too, is desperate to learn the Secret.

Recently, remember, she came torturously close to learning the Secret. Among the things she inherited from her ancestor, the Jester, was a fragment of papyrus with the Secret written on it in hieroglyphs. Alas, the papyrus disintegrated in front of her eyes.

Now Cass is headed for her grandfathers place. She has just heard that her grandfathers are selling their old firehouse, and she wants to make sure the Jesters trunk doesnt get lost in the move. She hopes that another clue about the Secret may lie inside the

Oh! There she is, walking down the road to the firehouse with Max-Ernest. I didnt realize Id been going on for so long.

If Im not mistaken, they are discussing the assignment they just turned in for their classs Egypt unit: make a list of the ten things you would take with you into the afterlife. As Im sure you know, the ancient Egyptians were very keen on keeping as many of their possessions as possiblefor as long as possible.

Here, lets listen:

and a giant bar of chocolate, of course, in case I get hungry in the afterlife, and a pair of underwear, because, you know, Max-Ernest was saying. Oh, and a deck of cards. Or do you think thats cheating? Since there are fifty-two cards in a deck, and were only supposed to take ten things?

No, I think you can count a deck as one thing, said Cass, walking a few feet ahead. Max-Ernest struggled to keep up.

The view couldnt have been more familiar. The backpack. The braids. The big pointy ears. Always, always from behind. Which was very unfair, when you thought about it. He, Max-Ernest, was shorter than Cass. Rightfully, he should go first; he wouldnt block her line of vision.

Did the Egyptians have cards? Cass asked casually. It seems like hieroglyphs would make a cool deck of cards.

Max-Ernest lit up. Thats a great idea! I dont think the Egyptians had them, but we could make our own cards and

There are just twenty-four hieroglyphs in the Egyptian alphabet, right? asked Cass, cutting him off. Or are there more? I feel like I heard both things.

Cass stopped at an intersection. Cars passed at a snails pace, honking their horns impatiently. It was unexpectedly busy for their quiet neighborhood.

Well, there are twenty-four main ones. They stand in for sounds, like our letters do, Max-Ernest explained, happy to discuss a topic that was of such passionate interest to him. But there are thousands and thousands of others that are more like picture-words. I dont think anybody knows how many