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The only interesting thing that ever happened to Edwin Bissel

I should probably begin this story somewhere towards the middle as the first part is laden with details and is sure to bore you.  So I will assume you already knew I had a sandwich made and also that you are aware of my employment at the museum of antiquities of an unusual nature.  I will also assume that you are aware I am a night watchman who lives by himself and bicycles to work not for my health but because I can’t afford a car and the people on the bus scare me.

So like every other work night for the past 17 years I walked the hall of the museum and shined my light in dark corners, checked locks on all the doors and made myself a fine pot of coffee.   Like every other first Tuesday of the month a new series of crates, boxes, oddities and general crap is piled up in the ware house loading dock waiting to be curated by the curator, sorted by the staff, and marveled at by the sheep that pay 19.75 cents for the chance to see something in person that they could of googled from home for free.

This particular Tuesday evening there was one thing just a little bit different.  There was a crate sent to us from a little museum in Bisbon a small town 26 miles south of the last person you see when heading out of London.  This Museum had sent us a cable offering to trade the tomb of a troll for some of our medieval torture devices.  A rack from the tower and an Iron maiden that had been taking up space for my entire 17 year career with the museum.  Our New Curator Jonathin Hornswaggle, having been appointed by the board of trustees a mere 3 months before had taken it upon himself to rid the Museum of all devices of torture considering it unconscionable that a museum should display such things.  I am guessing about now you are glad I started in the middle.  Anyway Mr. Hornswaggle jumped at the opportunity to offload the offensive devices and he was assured that the Troll tomb was very artistic with intricate stone carvings and would hold the interest of the many young people we have pass through our doors.