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After much debate a deli not far from the museum was selected for lunch.  It's close to the El station and only a couple of blocks from the museum.

"Sammy," Sylvia says as the group works its way toward the counter to place orders, "did you ever watch I Dream Of Jeannie?"

"I've seen it a couple of times," says Sammy.  "Why?  I'm not going to wear a pink harem costume, no way!"  She looks over at a decorative bottle on the counter.  "Or do you want me to try to turn into smoke and go in to that bottle over there?"

Sarah, in line behind Sammy adds, "No but the boys were hoping you'd hop into their laps and say; 'What can I do for you master?'  I'm certain the costume would be totally optional."

She apologizes, "Sorry, I'm sinking to the bad jokes early today.  I've been watching too much tv lately."

"See, that's what I was getting at.  I was reading one of Mitzi's old women's studies textbooks the other day, and it's opened my eyes to the chauvinist perversion of ancient traditions to pander to the tastes of a Western, male-dominated culture.  The djinn in the old stories are always male.  I mean, they're not even human, but they're presented as males.  You take this elemental, inhuman creature and compel it to do your bidding . . . which is all right, I guess.  I mean, compelling servitude by mystical means is a whole 'nother issue.

"But then, for TV, you doll it up in pink chiffon, turn it into a woman, and marry it to some guy who keeps trying to suppress her nature and abilities, and it turns into this incredibly popular, like, BDSM fairy tale.  So I want to know, where in twenty-first century is the opposite case?  Where's the story about the djinn who's a powerful magical guy-being who's always there to do your bidding on command?"

Nascent thesis query submitted, Sylvia pulls her wallet out of her heavy tote and, almost without looking, hands Donnie the rest of her bag.  "Hold."

Sammy grins and mimics a rimshot sound, then busily studies the menu board posted above the counter.  If Donnie says "Yes, Mistress", I'm going to pee myself.

After some contemplation, Sammy decides she wants a greek gyro (or a Greek hero?  that guy clearing tables is kind of cute...).  She gets her order and sits down at the group's table.  When Dave asks her to pass over some extra napkins, she shoots a mischievous glance at Sarah and Sylvia.  Then, with the barest glimmer of a smile peeking out from the corners of her mouth, she says in the sweetest of tones "Is there anything else I can do for you today, Master?"

"Yes Mistress. Must I go back in the bottle now?"

Donnie keeps a perky smile on his face.

Sylvia gives him a look that's a little tart, a little impish, and a little rueful.  "Are you like a bottle of Coke?  If I shake you up too much, do you explode?"

Colin has been sketching some Egyptian-like doodles. He wonders if he'll be able to read hieroglyphs, or if he'll see eyes resembling those of his tattoos. The one on his arms, especially, has an Egyptian story too. He wonders if Ken will be able to find Sammy's grandma. He looks up for a moment to picture Donnie exploding after exertion. It doesn't seem too unlikely.

Donnie leers in an exaggerated fashion. "Depends on your definition of 'shaking me up'."

Sylvia can only begin to imagine, and once she does, she can't stop herself.  Nevertheless she soldiers on.  "Is anyone here a big fan of Egyptian history?"

"A little bit. More for digging up gaming ideas than actual Egyptian history. I know they had three Kingdoms: Old, Middle, and New. At one time they were ruled by Ptolmy, a general of Alexander the Great. They were slavers and invented traditional mummification." Donnie shrugs. His mind picks up many little details, but doesn't make him any sort of authority on the subject.

"Uhm. I wouldn't say a big fan, but I read a couple of my mother's books on the topic. Mostly, I read about art. What is it you'd like to know?"

"I've watched lots of mummy movies but I don't think they're very historically accurate," offers Sarah.  She feels better about her joke after Donnie's comments.  Guess it's a guttermind kind of day.   

"Nothing in particular," Sylvia says, "but it helps to know what you're looking at when you visit a museum--especially if you're looking at something anomalous, you know?"

"Really?" asks Sammy.  "I just like looking at stuff, so I was just going to wander around until something interesting jumped out at me.  Maybe literally."  She takes a big healthy bite out of her gyro and wisecracks,  "Hey, maybe someone will try to use me to reanimate the mummy!  That'd be just like in one of those movies."

Donnie looks at Sammy as if she had grown a second head. "Chica, you seriously need to not say stuff like that. Don't borrow trouble.."

"Mummies can't really come alive, can they?"  Sylvia's not chiding; she's asking.  She's like a little kid asking if the bogeyman is real.

"They will with our luck." Donnie mutters before taking a big bite of his gyro.

"Of course they can't Sylvia.  It'll just be old man Hennessey who owns the abandoned amusement park.  He'll be dressing up as a mummy to scare everyone away from the museum and back to the amusement park," says Sarah then adding after a moment, "And he'll get away with it to if not for us darn kids!"

Sammy grins cheekily.  "Can I be Scooby Doo?"  She munches on some potato chips then turns to Donnie.  "Come on Donnie, really, what can happen?  Its a museum.  Its not like the mummy is going to pop out of his case and yell "BOO!", or like one of us is actually going to get to touch anything -- it'll all be behind some kind of barrier, along with guards and security systems to keep us from doing exactly that."  She slurps some coke through a straw.  "Are you afraid you're going to be able to read some previously unreadable inscription that will catapult us all through time and space, sending us back to Ancient Egypt or something?  Nuh uh.  The worst that will happen is when we find out they are completely out of strawberry flavored Astronaut ice cream in the gift shop."

"I think I can read hieroglyph inscriptions." Colin says, shrugging.

Donnie looks at her in mock horror. "Out of strawberry astronaut ice cream? I shall be very cross if I must do with plain old vanilla." He shakes his head snootily.

Donnie perks up aty Colin's statement. "Can you read any ancient language, Colin?"

"It looks like I can read most languages. Well, 'read' is not actually the right word. I... bypass the language barrier. When I try really hard I can try to speak in that way too. I've haven't tried anything this ancient yet, but I don't think it would be much different. I tried latin on my mom's books, and it works smoothly."

Donnie grins. There is something fierce about the grin and he takes a waffle fry and smoothes ou tthe ketchup in his plate. He then carves a symbol into the ketchup and turns it towards Colin. "Can you understand this cuniform symbol?"

Colin blinks a couple times. "Donnie, does you mother know you use this kind of words?"

Sarah finishes a bite of her sandwich and comments, "The boys are fiddling around with Klingon Gang signs again."   She takes a long drink from her 32 oz soda. 

Sylvia takes a look.  "What wor--?"  Then she rolls her eyes.

Sammy does the Spock thing with her hands, and crisscrosses her hands across her face so her eyes are peeking thru the vees formed by her fingers.  "Vulcan Logic Crew in da house!"  Then the sound of some dropped cutlery grabs her attention, and she turns to watch the cute greek guy bend over to pick it up.  She sighs happily and takes another big sip through her straw.

"Cooool. Even made up languages." He thinks for a moment and then starts smearing his ketchup-drawing slate clear again. "What about non-human made languages?"

He draws a sigil in quick slashes, finger held stiffly as if a claw. Dylan has been teaching him.

He raises one pale eyebrow at Colin in challange.

Colin concentrates and the answer appears in his mind.

"Uhm. You and Dylan don't go around putting that mark on people, do you?" he asks with a grin.

Donnie laughs loudly, falling back in his seat. After the giggles subside, he says "Well I don't. I can't guarantee Dylan doesn't though."