Title: Bohemian Rhapsody

Author: Turkeys R Sexy

Chapter Two: Museum

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Star Wars and everything involved with it is the proporty of George Lucas.

AN: Hidy Ho my young (and old) readers. First and foremost, I would like to apologise for the late update. I've been quite busy, and well...yeah. Updates will most likely be scarce until summer, due to Final Exams and MAP testing. But do not fret! I plan to update at least twice a month. Secondly, I would like to thank all my reviewers. You guys are what make me want to write this. te he.

Reviewers:

Jedi Keliam Kenobi: I'm glad you find it interesting! Now if only I could make it funny...lol Thanks for being my first reviewer! I hope you like this chappie!

Anwinn: Anwinn...I like that. te he. Unless my muse changes his mind, the story will take place in the first trilogy.

Ara, Goddess of the broken: Ah, I've attracted a Goddess to my story! Yay for me! te he Thanks for the review!

Now on with the story!

Once the buses arrived at the museum, Xandrea couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable. She didn't understand why she felt this way; all she knew was that she did. "It's probably just my imagination," she thought as she ran her hand through her hair.

Xandrea and the seniors exited the bus and entered the massive museum. "Wow," she said in an impressed tone. She didn't expect the museum to be this extravagant, but then again, the only other museum she had been to was the small Holocaust Museum in eighth grade. "Now that was depressing...all the pictures of the dead Jews...horrible," Xandrea thought as she, along with the rest of her group, walked along with their tour guide.

Some of the exhibits amused her, but the one she really wanted to see was the Entertainment Exhibit. She had heard a lot about it from her foster mother, who had already seen it. Xandrea had heard that it had a prop from every major movie from the last ninety years. "So of course they'll have something from Moulin Rouge and Pirates of the Caribbean," she thought as a huge smile spread across her face at the thought of seeing something actually touched by Ewan McGregor, Orlando Bloom, or Johnny Depp.

As Xandrea thought about her three favorite actors, she couldn't help but squeak when she saw a sign that read 'Entertainment Exhibit, this way'. When she did squeak though, some of the students stared at her. She could have sworn she heard somebody say 'Isn't that the girl Mindy wants to beat up?'

After mentally kicking herself about two-hundred times, she discovered that they were right at the doors that leaded to the Entertainment Exhibit. "Oh yay!" she thought as she fought the urge to jump up and down like a little child who just entered the candy store.

"Ok everyone! If you will follow me through here, you will find that..." she heard the tour guide say as she stepped through the doors. When the guide moved aside to let everyone else in, Xandrea visibly winced at what she saw.

"Ew! What is that?" she asked aloud as she eyed a yellow liquid on the floor. "Oh...I really hope that isn't piss...ew..." Xandrea thought as she eyed the substance suspiciously. "No...it looks too thick to be piss...why the hell do I keep saying piss?" she thought as she eyed the yellow liquid some more.

Xandrea didn't wait for the guide to tell them to exit the exhibit. She took it upon herself to leave that urine infested (and kind of smelly) place. Feeling the need to get away from all of the noise and commotion coming from, and near, the now ruined exhibit, she decided to retire to the ladies room.

"That was gross..." she said as she looked into the mirror. "There is no way in hell that that was pee...It was way too thick, and it smell like...I don't know. It sorta smelled like oil?"

She sat and thought about the smell for a while, when she realized it was getting dark outside. "Oh no!" she yelled out loud. "The bus left without me..." She looked down at her watch, seeing that it was 6:30PM."YEP...they left without me...oh crap...the museum closes at six o'clock on weekdays!"

Xandrea ran to the restroom door and tried to open it frantically. Unfortunately for her though, it was already locked. "Oh no! Clarissa is so gonna kill me," she said, referring to her stepmother.

After Remy's fifth coffee (they wouldn't serve him alcohol), he decided it was time for him to go. Apparently, fate had other things in mind. As soon as Remy got up to leave, a scruffy looking guy came up to him and said, "Hey kid, you can't leave. Your gonna have to stay for questioning."

"Questioning?" Remy inquired. He didn't even know anything had happened. "Listen...whoever you are, I've just had the worst day of my life, and I really don't want to make it worse by being questioned about something I really know nothing about." He stood up, ready to leave, when the scurfy man pushed him back down.

"Listen kid, you are close to the crime. I really don't care if you're having the worst day of your life, or whatever. You will stay and be questioned, or, you can be arrested. Your choice kid." the scurfy, (and apparently stronger), man said as he looked down at his watch.

Remy shot up in his seat. 'If this guy doesn't stop calling me kid...ohhh DAMNIT! I'm twenty-one fucking years old! Who does he think he is!' Remy thought. "Listen old man, I'm twenty-one years old, so I am NOT a kid. And secondly, my name is Remy. Say it with me now. REMY." he yelled as the other man looked the other way as another man was yelling at him.

"Inspector Mars! How is the interrogation going?" a short balding man asked the scruffy man.

"Mr. Curator, its going fine. except for Flipsey here. He keeps on yelling about how he is twenty-one and how I shouldn't call him a kid..." Inspector Mars said.

"MY NAME IS NOT FLIPSEY!" Remy yelled at the investigator as a young woman approached them. He let a small laugh escape his lips when she nearly fell. "Wow, she is falling for me already." he said grinning to himself.

"Mr. Curator, why can't I just go home now and be questioned tomorrow?" the woman said as she eyed the inspector with great distaste.

"I've told you already Miss Roundeau, you were the one to discover and leave the crime. You are a pivotal witness to the case. Please, try to make your self comfortable," the curator told her in a fatherly tone.

Miss Roundeau just stormed off, without giving Flipsey...er I mean Remy another glance.

After a few moments of silence, Remy said, "OK 'Inspector', hurry up with the damn questions so I can leave!"

Once Paige got one of the other guides to take the group of teenagers back to the bus, she went to wait outside the door. After about ten minuets of doing this, she got very impatient. 'What could be taking them so long?' Paige thought as she looked up and down the now virtually deserted hall.

Sighing, she said aloud, "At least I won't get blamed for this." Paige thought as she paced back and forth in front of the door, 'If the curator didn't like me so much, I would be fired...again.'

"Oi Paige! Go get changed, I'll watch this door for you!" yelled a voice. Paige figured that this person could be at the crime scene, so she went to change into her regular cloths. "Thanks," she yelled out to whoever relieved her of her position.

Once she changed, Paige went to find the curator to tell him that she was going home. 'They can question me tomorrow. I'm tired.' she thought as she let out a yawn. Paige walked out the front door of the museum, and down to the curator...and a scruffy looking man.

"Mr. Simpson, I've sent the students back to school, just as you requested." she said as she smiled at the curator. The old balding man was like a father to her ever since she came to St. Louis. Looking at the other man, who looked about two or three years older than her, she thought, 'Wow...he looks like her belongs in a silent film.'

"Hello, I'm Mack Jars...er, I mean, Jack Mars.", the scruffy-looking man said. Paige tried not to giggle at his mistake. She smiled, and said, "It's a pleasure to meet you...Mack did you say?" By this time, it was taking all of Paige's will power not to crack up laughing.

After a moment the man replied, "It's Jack actually, and you are?"

Paige tried not to roll her eyes. "Me? I'm outta your reach Mr. Investigator." Turning on her heel, she walked back up the steps. After she reached the tenth step, she turned around and told the curator she was going home, due to the traumatic experience.

As she turned her back, she heard the curator say, "Yes, that mess is rather disturbing isn't it?"

Anyone who says Paige would know she was trying her hardest not to laugh. "Oh no not that sir, I was referring to the fact that I just got hit on by a P.I. Very traumatic", she said as she smiled.

Paige retreated back up to the museum. Once inside she let out her concealed laughter. She didn't really care that a lot of the police in the museum were staring at her like she was crazy; she just laughed.

"Paige!" the curator yelled as he came in behind her. "Stay in my office until I get there please. I must show Mr. Mars the crime scene." Paige nodded her head and headed to Mr. Simpson's office.

After twenty minuets of waiting, the curator finally came in. "Paige, my dear, I'm afraid you cannot return to your home just yet. You see...something else has happened." he said as he sat in a chair across from her.

"WHAT? Did somebody trash another exhibit? Or did they threaten the museum? ARE WE GONNA GET BLOWN UP!" she yelled frantically. The curator put his hand up to calm her. "No, my dear child no. You see...somebody...cleaned up the exhibit."

Paige stared at the curator for a moment, and then let out an audible, "Huh?" She didn't understand what was so bad about cleaning up the mess...well except for the fact that there were no more clues to who had done it, but still. It was clean...no more icky pissy stuff on the floor.

"I'm afraid I can't let you leave," he said as he left the room, and Paige.

It took Paige about five minutes before she realized the curator was gone. "Hey..where did he go!", she said as she ran out the door, following (hopefully) the curator.

As she saw the curators back, she heard somebody yell, "MY NAME IS NOT FLIPSEY!" When she heard this, she nearly slipped on a banana peal. or what looked like one at least.

"Mr. Curator," she said, using her nickname for her father-figure, " why can't I just go home now and be questioned tomorrow?" Paige said this all while eyeing Jack Mars with dislike. She didn't know why, but for some reason, she found this man utterly...annoying.

"I've told you already Miss Roundeau," Paige cringed as the curator used her last name," you were the one to discover and leave the crime. You are a pivotal witness to the case. Please, try to make yourself comfortable."

Paige just stormed out, very annoyed that she wasn't allowed to go home. 'Fine, I'll just go hang out in the Restroom', she thought as she smiled to herself. "Just like high school."

"That woman is infuriating!", Jack Mars said to himself as he climbed the steps to the museum. He couldn't believe that a woman got the better of him. Him, Jack Mars, former criminal on death row! 'Give me a prostitute any day' he thought stubbornly as he entered the museum.

After the curator said something to that infuriating woman, he turned to him and said, "I'll take you to the crime scene. I must warn you though...it smells quite bad."

"I'm sure I can handle it..", Jack said as he was lead to the wrecked exhibit. After about three minuets of walking, they ended up at a closed door with yellow tape saying. 'Danger. Do not Enter.' The curator turned back to him, and opened the door. To his great surprise it was...

Clean.

"Is this a joke old man!", Jack yelled as he grabbed the curator by the neck of his shirt, lifting him off the ground. "Thought you could pull one on ol' Jack Mars did ya? Well, guess what.." He couldn't finish his sentence due to Mr. Simpson interrupting him.

"It wasn't clean before, I swear it!", he yelled in fear. Jack kept the balding man up in the air for a few moments. 'Why would the cops be hear if it was a lie?', he thought. Deciding the man was telling the truth, he lowered him down to the ground.

"Who can I question?", he asked in a gruff voice.

"Thi..This way sir...", the curator said cowering. He led Jack to a cafe, not far from the crime. A lot of the people there were old; really old. Most likely too old to do the amount of damage the curator had told him about.

"Most of these people are about to die...do you really think they could have committed the crime Simpson?", Jack asked as he looked for young people through the mass of old, wrinkly people. After a few minuets of searching, he saw a young man, a few years younger than himself, looking as if he were leaving.

"Hey kid, you can't leave. Your gonna have to stay for questioning.", Jack said as he approached him. After his encounter with the 'boy' he would learn that, 1. He didn't like being called kid. and 2. His name was Flipsey.

'Heh, I wouldn't like being called Flipsey either...his parents must have been on crack.', Jack thought to himself as the younger man told him to interrogate him. "OK Fipsey, where were you at 12:47PM today?", he inquired.

"Erm...I don't know. I was sitting here drinking coffee.", Flipsey told him as he ordered another coffee.

Jack ran his hand over his face. "This better be worth the money."

AN: Yes another one. Well, I just wanted to add that I do accept constructive critiziom. I do want to become a better writer so please tell me what you like and don't like. Also, this story will take place three months after TPM. The Star Wars univerce will come into play next chappie!

Remeber, reviews are a girls best friend