A Thief's Quest

He arrives at the forbidding metal doors early, and creeps furtively inside. Patience is as important as skill as he sneaks warily from one point to another, and he keeps his mind focused and his reflexes sharp. More thief than hero, his latent fear is kept in check only because a business-like demeanor is key to his success.

A fly on the wall keeps watch, and thinks to itself: "Hey, he's pretty nimble, for a fat guy."

He climbs tenaciously to the terrace where his prize awaits and braces for a final, catlike snatch at victory, only to be shoved down again, unexpectedly. A setback. Disappointing, but not surprising. He has lurked these labyrinthine halls before, stricken dumb with wonder and awe at the number and severity of the pitfalls that await the uninitiated. Set back but undaunted, he climbs again, to face the soulless, animated carcass dully guarding his prize with an empty, dead gaze.

To say her limbs move perfunctorily would be a generous description, but her hollow mind and plodding movements are still more than enough to stymie his acquisition of the ultimate prize. With a soothing tone and meaningless, empty words, he coaxes the zombie queen into mechanically releasing his coveted scroll, containing mystic jargon and the magical seal necessary for the start of his true quest.

Thrilled at his triumph, he makes his hasty exit with the brisk efficiency of one who has plucked a dragon's egg while the beast slept, senses on full alert for the evil squeal that raises the alarm and dooms his heavy errand, so close to its zenith.

With a silent breath of relief, he gently settles the forbidding metal door closed behind him, much less intimidating now that it was at his back. His quasi-covert mission completed, his climbed aboard his wagon and stole away without a backward glance.

...

In other news, my trip to the DMV was good, overall.