“Indiana Jones And The Abyss” by Eric Norris

The Cast:

Harrison Ford: Professor Henry (Indiana) Jones, 38, our hero.
Karen Allen: Miss Marion Ravenwood, 30, Indy’s love interest, possibly us, but at least me, anyway.
Paul Freeman: Dr. René Emile Belloq, 45, Indy’s nemesis, a traitorous Frenchie.
Anonymous Musclemen: Nazis of various races.

Marion! Marion. Listen to me.
Start anywhere. Pick anything. Random
Paragraphs. Find one. Just read it. “He
Reached the inner chamber of the tomb.
‘Osiris curses he—’ He? Whom? The key
Cartouche was missing; and a granite wound
Grinned grotesquely at him. Hacked away.
Deliberately. And recently. René.

The stale aroma of a cigarette—
Gauloises—suggested the wily Frenchman.
His rival. Vandal. Yet. Amentophet
Still lay in his sarcophagus—still band-
Aged; the mask the six bald priests had set
On Pharaoh’s fine young features four thousand
Years before rested on his brow—
Glittering, golden. Nothing stolen. Now,

Why? Stubble growing through a scar
Irritated Indiana’s chin.
He scratched it with his flashlight. On the far
Wall there appeared a royal procession:
Four horses led a chariot. War.
Conquest. Famine. Death. He was certain
This predated the Apocalypse
Of St. John. A whistle passed his lips…”

No! Try again. Real bad episode.
If we weren’t flying over an abyss
I would—I would—hang on—it’s hard to hold
A lecture swinging on a whip like this.
Trust me. Just trust me. Somewhere—down the road—
We will get back to Pharaoh and Osiris.
Look, Honey, if you wanted to know more,
You really should have read the script before

You took the part. So, try to focus. Try.
We’re clinging to existence by a thread.
I know it says we are supposed to die
In separate beds. Don’t skip so far ahead.
Go back to where René once asked me, “Why?”
“Why do you waste your life among the dead,
Professor, excavating legends—stones—
To sit in some Museum? Doctor Jones,

What has archaeology given you?
An evening in Byzantium? A tan?
Americans. Tourists. Buffoons. Mon Dieu!
Lies run through your lives like ropes of sand
Run through my fingers. Well, what can one do
Except extend an honest helping hand?
Here I hold two canteens. One full
Of water. This one—empty—love. All

You have to do—untie his mouth—is choose.
Choose one canteen and then we seal you in.
If you select the water, you will lose.
If you pick love, then, I will see you win.
I guarantee a postcard marked ‘Toulouse’
Conveying your—affection—for Marion
Will be arriving in Nepal next week.
Choose wisely, Indiana. Let him speak…”