After a week of silence, you might be asking yourself "Where's Enke?"

Enke's got sidetracked with some other stuff and entered a short term shame spiral for neglecting his readers.

Enke's ship has been righted. Expect his regular return no later than next week.

Thanks for keeping the faith.

Matt's art dealer friend showed up Tuesday night to check out the mummy. He had a moustache with a little goatee and shoulder length hair cut straight at the shoulders.

It made him look like Robin Hood.

He said he might be able to move it, but the foul odor and salsa stains were going to make it difficult. He said he'd make some calls and get in touch with us yesterday. He never did.

The mummy's gotten better about leaving the volume on the TV at an acceptable level and he doesn't usually break stuff in the cabinets if we leave him some food before we go to bed. Matt got hooked up with a couple cases of fruit snacks and the mummy seems to like those, so I think we're in the clear for the time being.

Yesterday they moved Oscar to the cube in front of Angela. The desk is right under the heating vent and Oscar's really fat, so he spent all yesterday bitching about the heat.

At one point he said he was "hotter than a ten peckered mink". Later, he said the heat was drying him up "like a camel's cunt".

They might as well have moved Oscar's desk right into HR.

This mummy sucks.

On Thursday the cops came because "we" were watching a 'Planet of the Apes' marathon with the volume all the way up.

We kept them waiting at the door for way too long as it took us awhile to distinguish 'cop banging at the door' noise with 'mummy ripping the fixtures out of the kitchen walls' noise.

When we finally determined the source of the noise to be police at the door, we rock-paper-scissored it to see who would go out to talk to the cops while the other two were subduing the mummy.

I 'won'.

I got out and the Chinese family from upstairs and body builders from the downstairs were standing behind two very pissed off looking police officers. One of the cops asked why it took me so long to answer the door, and I told him I was sleeping.

He told me I was lucky because the people behind him hadn't been able to get to sleep on account of the noise coming from my apartment. He told me to tell whoever had the TV on to keep it down or they were going to come back an issue a citation.

I heard bottles breaking as I shut the door behind me.

I walked into the kitchen to see the mummy standing in front of the fridge with half the contents emptied out on the floor. A couple of pickles were laying in a pool of broken glass and brine. The mummy was standing on a tube of mustard with its face stuck in a jar of mayonnaise.

Gerald said it went for the fridge the instant they turned the TV off.

Matt taped up the volume button on the remote so it wouldn't work. We didn't have any problems for the rest of the night.

The next day Gerald and I went through work half asleep. I could hear Angela making wedding plans all day.

First she called up the bakery to talk about the cake. Then she called her fiance to talk about the cake. She accused her fiance of not caring about the cake and not caring about the wedding. Then she called her mom to cry about her fiance, and then went off to the bathroom for 30 minutes for the assumed purpose of crying some more.

Sue came by and asked where she was. Gerald said she looked drunk when she got in.

When we got home that night it smelled like the mummy had pooped in its wrapper. We weren't sure whether it was actual poo or whether the thing just stunk from all the food sitting in its body undigested.

We wanted to change its bandages so it would stink less, but Matt's antiquities trader friend is supposedly coming over Tuesday to take the thing away (hopefully).

On Saturday we found out the mummy had changed our Tivo settings and we had about 10 hours of QVC saved to it. We ended up getting a bottle of Tequila and watching it with him. I think we might have even had him answer the door when the pizza came.

Somehow, between the booze and the sleep deprivation, we've found a way to live normally around a 3,000 year old man that smells like a dumpster watching the same 10 hours of people peddling collectible dolls and antique swords for 30 hours straight.

Gerald's even gotten comfortable enough to take advantage of the situation. He blamed the mummy for his dirty dishes and all the pornos that showed up on our cable bill this month.

He's also been saying, "Mummy - kill!" when he sees someone he doesn't like on TV. Matt and I both wince every time he says it, but it seems to crack Gerald up pretty good.

So far, he's put hits out on Rachel Ray, Dr. Phil, this lady from a Febreeze commercial, Ryan Seacrest, Anderson Cooper, and the Hamburglar.

I've told Gerald there's blood on his hands if any of them end up dead.

Matt's friend will be here tomorrow to look at our friend, so we ordered pizza to celebrate. We got the mummy a jar of queso and a 2 liter of creme soda from the dollar bin at the supermarket.

Might as well send him off in style.