"I have found the mummy's tomb!" announced Professor Simpson to his colleagues Mister Junkers and Miss Twillby.
"You sure have," said the mummy, who leapt up from his sarcophagus, shook off the gold ornaments plating his wrappings, and slammed the stone door shut. Darkness filled the burial chamber.
Snick, fwoosh, crackle. The match, and then the candle, lit the wide, concerned eyes of Miss Twillby.
"I say." Professor Simpson adjusted his glasses. He peered at the interlaced wrappings of the mummy, flickering between white and black as the candlelight danced.
"I'm quite scared," Miss Twillby said.
"Don't be," Mister Junkers said. He rolled up his shirtsleeves and assumed a fighting stance before the mummy. "Queensbury rules."
"More like Kingsbury," the mummy said, "and you're the king, and Ima bury you." He squatted into an ancient Egyptian fighting stance.
"What the bloody hell is that? Fight like a man!"
"Why fight like a man when you can fight like a crocodile?" the mummy leapt forward with his arms out straight. He tried to clap his hands together.
"Right-o," Mister Junkers said. Before the hands could meet, Mister Junkers slithered a jab in between the pincers. His fist landed on the mummy's jaw. The mummy staggered backwards.
"That's why you fight like a man," Mister Junkers said.
"Fuck you," the mummy said. He waved his arms for a moment and grunted. "Now you're cursed. That's why you fight like a mummy." He pulled open the stone door and walked out into the dunes.
"Come back!" yelled Professor Simpson, chasing after the mummy. "I'd like to study you!"
The Moral: if your mustache loses its vigor, try to remember if you've been cursed.