"Bob? Bob Quartzenkofferloferous?" asked the strangely familiar yet unidentifiable voice on the telephone.

"You're speaking to the head cheese himself."

"It's me, Arlington Virginia!" The black shroud of mystery lifted itself from my mind.

"Arlington! I haven't seen you since we were in marching34 band together! You played the grand piano, right?"

"I sure did! And you played the slide whistle." Yes, this was definitely the Arlington Virginia from my old medical school.

"Talking about the old days sure brings back the sound of music. After all these years, why did you contact me?"

"Well, I have a proposition for you. I am going to the forever green jungle of the Amazon. Come with me, old friend!" Of course, I thought him insane as a rodeo clown43.

"Why, that's a trip across the planet! Of the apes should I worry, or perhaps even a wolf?" I inquired cautiously.

"Dear, no. Wolves are not a threat, and apes should not pose a problem. They are as harmless as a potato. So, will you come?"

"As you would like. What should I bring on this venture?"

"Food, perhaps. Something sweet, potato, pie, maybe cream, cheese to nibble on also, and even cinnamon toast. Crunch whatever you can into one suitcase. Just make sure you are not boxing them for too long. We are leaving on June third, at a quarter after twelve." With that, he hung up. The ham let no one upstage his exits.

On the third day of June at precisely twelve fifteen, my butler of no last name, Jeeves, announced that Arlington was at my door. I invited him in.

"Are you ready for the big trip?" he asked in a voice that shone like a quartz.

"As ready as I'll ever be. Why exactly are we going to the Amazon?" Upon later reflection, I should have asked this much earlier.

"I will tell you on the airplane." More unneeded suspense. As I have said, he is quite a ham.

Once on our flight, I again posed the question.

"Would you like the long story or the short story?"

"Please, the short version." No need to open the mouth of an overinflated balloon.

"Well, I was browsing through the National Geographic magazine collection I use to keep my tables from wobbling, and I discovered an intriguing article on the Temple of Rampant Indifference. According to ancient Metzolukalaka myths, this temple holds the key to immortality, world peace, and the legendary ingredients of Spam. So I said to myself, 'That sounds like fun! Now who can I invite that would be stup-err-stupendously adventurous enough to accompany me?' You were the first person I thought of."

"That's very kind of you, Arlington. How do you propose to enter the Temple of Rampant Indifference if it is just a myth?"

"I bought The Traveler's Guide to Metzolukalaka." With this, I stopped bothering to ask questions and devoured the snack given to me by the attendant, peanut butter. The movie playing in the airplane was Pee-Wee's Great Adventure, a truly inspiring epic that possibly could have given me some adventuring pointers.

Fifteen hours and four jars of peanut butter later, Arlington and I arrived in Metzolukalaka Regional Airport, a location as foreign to me as couscous. Struggling to press my way through the hordes of tourists on their way to Metzolukalakaland, I took a slight stumble, then a completely embarrassing fall. To make things even worse, Arlington was right there to witness the event, then help me up.

"You walk as if your legs are made of Silly Putty," he cleverly commented. His conceited attitude was as bad as the music of LFO, as pop goes. The weasel would never admit any mistakes and would always point out mine. I wondered why I did not remember this before agreeing to accompany him on his ridiculous journey.

Arlington surveyed the area then turned to me.

"Come, we have a long hike ahead of us. By my estimates, the Temple of Rampant Indifference is about two hundred meters to the southeast." I turned in that direction, and sure enough, there it was.

A quarter of the way into the tiring journey, I had to rest.

"I am virtually dehydrated. Water would be nice about now," I pitifully whined to Arlington. With poorly disguised disgust, he handed me his canteen.

"Thanks," I manage to wheeze.

After a quick drink we continued, eventually reaching the base of the massive temple.

"Hand me a pencil," Arlington demanded. Not in a state to make any witty comments, I gave him the pencil. Tree branches and eroded stone blocks were deftly sketched by the talented Mr. Virginia.

"According to my calculations, we are at the front of the temple," he stated. This was made evident by the giant stone door before us. Arlington, in my opinion a sophomore, gifted Englishman in his, knocked on the monolithic stone barrier, supporting my belief.

By fate's master plan to spite me, the block grated aside, revealing a young man wearing a Hawaiian shirt standing within the temple.

"Hiya folks! I'm Dan Mation! Why doncha come on in! The tour's about to start." Dan's speech was as American as cotton candy and bumper cars in a county fair. I was going to strangle Arlington for bringing me on this wasted journey to a molded plastic fabrication, but realized it would do no good. Instead, I tried to salvage something from the temple.

"Dan, are the secrets of immortality, world peace, and the ingredients of Spam contained within the temple walls?"

I watched him take from his pocket a peppermint, stick it in his mouth, and cheerfully reply, "No, but we have a playground with chutes and ladders for the kids to play on!"

"I we don't have any children!"

"In that case, would you be interested in our wonderful gift shop? We sell such quality souvenirs as this 'I discovered the secret to immortality at the Temple of Rampant Indifference' t-shirt and this splendid snow globe."

"That shirt is as pathetic as wearing FUBU, and a snow globe? It doesn't snow here!" I replied, losing my temper.

"Perhaps you would like to come back next Tuesday? Bring along your third cousin. Twice Removed's Day is tons of fun! Yesterday's activities were a blast!"

"Forget it." I sighed and turned to Arlington. "Can we go home now?"

"I was hoping we could stay and visit Metzolukalakaland, but if you really want to leave I'll go."

However, the Metzolukalaka Regional Airport was less cooperative.

The chipper girl at the ticket counter squeaked to me, "I'm sorry sir, but there are no available flights to either America or England within the next two months. Would you like a tour guide to make your stay more comfortable?"

---

It has been six weeks since I came to Metzolukalaka. Arlington Virginia got a job at the Temple of Rampant Indifference as a gift shop salesman. Jeeves, as free as a shrubbery without hedge clippers, finally went before a judge and legally changed his name to Jeeves Jonah Jameson the First. The airline attendant who thankfully supplied me with peanut butter entered a three day training program and became a Metzolukalaka Airlines pilot. So far, she has not crashed. Dan Mation continued working for the Temple of Rampant Indifference twenty-four hours a day with a smile on his face and a skip in his step. The girl at the ticket counter is recovering from the severe concussion she received six weeks ago. I, Bob Quartzenkofferloferous, am currently serving the first of my seventeen life sentences in Metzolukalaka prison. If I behave, I should be released in October.