"Behold!" Cried Jungle Jim. Reaching deep into the voluminous folds of his khaki he drew forth an ancient clay jar."Within lies the clue that will lead us to Discovery!" and with the precise archaeological technique he was famed for, Jim reached high into the hair and hurled the jar to the ground. All the men rushed in to see. Quick-hands Quigley made it first (obviously) and pulled the delicate parchment from the shards. He frowned in concentration and began to read the words.
"1) Six Yards Khaki. 2) Sharpening stone. 3) Hair gel. 4) Native Gui-"
Jim hastily interrupted. "Whoa! Guess that's my shopping list. Sorry boys. After the incident in the Himalayas I took to carrying important notes in small clay jars. It's really neat and besides it makes a great sound when you wiggle your hips."
Jim shimmied his hips and the clinking sounds of ( many) clay jars came from the complicated network of his pockets.
All the men stared.
"Right. Anyway. Let me get the right jar." Jim dove back into one of his pockets and started rummaging around. Sometimes he got like this. All giddy before an expedition. It wasn't exactly in keeping with the virile, paragon of masculinity persona he usually tried to cultivate but the men loved him for his enthusiasm.
Suddenly vast swooping noises came from the sky above the canopy. The darkness of the jungle floor grew even darker as a round and hairy shape blotted out the sun for a moment.
"Chi! Chi!" it cried.
Some of the men clung to each other. Jim narrowed his steely blue eyes at the sky*.
"Yoga student. Stay still."
After a moment the vast shape winged westward in its fruitless search for Camp Discovery!
All the men breathed a sigh of relief. Jim shook his head. Those wacky yoga students!
"All right men. Here's the right jar. You can tell because it's definitely more ancient than the last one. Let's see what we g-Hey, you two in the back! Quit clinging to each other! There's a time and place for that sort of thing but not when I'm on the dais!**"
Two of the men reluctantly parted.
"Right, let's see what we got here." This time Jim decided to ease the lid open for a quick peek. He really did have a lot of jars in there and some of them contained some sensitive information so, while hurling the jar to the ground was certainly more in keeping with the whole ethos of the Explorista! he really felt that this was more sensible.
"AH HA!" he cried, "this is what we're looking for! Behold men! Our salvation!" And with a flourish, Jim unrolled a piece of ancient parchment.
All the men stared, and the dreaded throat cleared. Jim knew that, someday, he would kill this man.
"Um, Jim?"
"Yes. Daniel."
If this is really a secret document from a Himalayan holy man, why is it in pencil?"
"Oh for GOD'S SAKE DAN! The man had some kind of... thing about pens. They screwed with his chi or something. I don't know! We never really got into it.*** But this really is the document. Do you think I could draw all these wild-ass heiroglyphs?"
All the men nodded thoughtfully, their beloved second in command was many things, but draftsman he was not.
"Now all we have to do is translate these things and we'll be well on our way." Jim turned looked at the parchment thoughtfully.
"Okay, while I am an expert in cuneiform and Estrangelan Syriac****, this particular script is somewhat beyond me. Hank?"
Heiroglyph Hank stepped forward. Truth be told, some of the men didn't care for Hank all that much. He was kind of snobby. Wore a monocle. Wet the bed... that kind of thing. But he did live up to his name.
"Well this is most interesting. Some of it appears to be heiroglyphs from ancient mesoamerica and some appears to be some sort of Ethiopic script. Very hodgepodge sort of writing. Most likely a hoax."
Jim cranked up the steeliness in his steely blues and let them shine down on Hank.
"Or rather, it would be a hoax if it was from anyone other than your beloved guru, Jungle Jim. In this case I would say that we have a fine example of hithero unknown cultural intercourse."
Some of the men sniggered.
"But whatever it is, I'm not sure I can read it."
Jim sighed miserably. "Alright men, I think we all know what this means."
They nodded sympathetically.
Jim spat out the word.
"Nigel."
*Lately Jim had been thinking that while flinty blue was pretty good, steely blue just had to be better. I mean, with steel, you can make Fire!
**There is no place for homophobia on expeditions, where long cold nights spent in wild reaches or python infested ruins can catch up with any man. That being said, don't do that kind of thing when Jim is on the dais trying to talk to you.
*** Actually, Jim was one of those men with an odd fetish for pens, watches, pocket knives and other Man-Jewelry and his guru's steadfast refusal to use pens baffled him. Many a night Jim tried to prise the secret from the old man, and all he got was some crap out of a fortune cookie. The old man died with the secret that he was deathly afraid of ink ( nasty incident with a Himalayan Mountain Squid).
****As hard as it may be to believe, this is true.
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