Cleo came home from school to check on Tut. Our hero Cleo cannot fucking stand him but something keeps her around for some reason. We are about to find the fuck out.

That old asshole Horace Bedetty kinda strolls in and gets pretty ignorant and disrespectful with Cleo, first and foremost. Ugh.

"CLEO YOU BLACK BITCH, STAY OVERNIGHT AND CLEAN THIS MUSEUM. IT'S A FUCKING DUMP!" The sexually frustrated museum curator hollered at the tippy-top of his worthless shriveling lungs. "That is all". He finished… in his pants and never cleaned it. Slob.

If Cleo wasn't so downright passionate about the state of the museum, she would have broke her foot off in his ass and called him a old fucking white cracker. But nah.

Tutenstein with his disgustingly green skin that drives Cleo's pussy into a watery tailspin crawled out of his fucking sarcophagus and looked her up and down; undressing her with his eyes.

"Oh baby..." he let out as he stroked his rotting, green erection that scared the hell out of Luxor.

The nigger woman stripped down to nothing to reveal her coco puff ass pubes that were so unkempt that they had dreads that matched her horrible, wet bandage looking hair.

Cleo thought rationally for once, "Let's make sure your cock doesn't fall off like last time babes kthx?" ...or did she?

She had hidden in one of her pants pockets…. a shitty purple Elmer's glue stick that kindergartners use. I'm not sure how she expects this glue to work while being penetrated through a tight vaginal orifice over and over at a very fast rate but we'll let her learn the hard way through this experience.

So Tut rolls his glowing, lifeless disgusting, pupil-less eyes at her. He knew she was being ridiculous.

"Cleo...what in the fucking Horace's eye is that?" Tut most rightfully questioned this idiot bitch's idea.

"Tut, it's a glue stick. We gotta use this to keep your cheddar shredder on."

"My WHAT?"

"Your womb broom, jackal head!"

"Cleo are you falling ill of possession again? Do I need to call Imhotep?"

Cleo paused and huffed.

"Your fucking penis. Tut. Your fucking rotting, dead cock."

"Oh"

Walter, the retarded, useless, potheaded security guard got up from his desk, reeking of Purple Kush, and started looking for some snacks. He had pretty severe case of the munchies and no bastardized, necrophilic, perversion of nature is going to stop him from acquiring his delicious Cool Ranch Doritos.

"Oh shit Tut, it's fucking Walter!" Cleo shouted as she frantically gathered her clothes.

"Cleo, relax." Our undead friend said whilst still stroking himself like he just doesn't care.

"The stupid one smokes the most powerful shit we used to smoke in my time, we won't even be aware of our rituals!"

Tut was right.

Walter stumbled past them and just looked for a hot second.

"huhuhuhhhuhuhuh mummy sex...far out man" he giggled as he wobbled toward the promised land… the vending machines.