Taped Mummy saved by a Silver WW2 Pocket Knife; rescued from the Wall of Death.

Read Time:12 Minute, 52 Second

Table of Contents

By William Van Zyl (September 2021)

On November 3, 1977 – in the middle of the night – a taped mummy hung limply from a wall. The tape that held the head up was slowly pulling away from the wall. The eyes, mouth, and nose were open – the rest of the body was embalmed. Narrow horisontal strips of white were exposed – as if the body was prepared for burial. The eyes and mouth were visible, but they were closed.

‘Be quick, be quick, get him off!’

‘I can’t get the tape off the wall!’

‘The scissors are too big; it might cut his skin! He is only wearing his undies, be careful!’

At that opportune moment, a student appeared from the corridor.

‘What on earth have you done!’ he shouted.

‘He could die!’

‘Get something sharp to cut the tape loose. Something with a short blade!’

The small group of card-playing students panicked.

‘Help, someone help!

Cut him loose, cut him loose!

A second student – John Benson, on his way to the toilet – walked into the room. He immediately realised what was happening and ran back to his room. In a matter of seconds, he produced a pocket knife. He then inserted the razor-sharp blade into the “GORILLA-brand” duct tape and carefully and swiftly cut the Mummy loose from the torso down. The rest of the strapped-mummy-friends tried their best to hold the Mummy up against the wall. They were off balance. One tripped and fell over.

GIF. Credit: https://tenor.com/view/duct-tape-stuck-trapped-wall-gif-5791223

‘Hold him up, hold him up. Don’t let go!’

The group held the Mummy’s torso up while the knife-man cut around the legs of the “grey-bandaged figure”.

Finally, the body was lying dead still on the ground; then the chest started heaving up and down.

‘He is alive!’

‘Pull the tape from his chest. Let him breathe!’ shouted one of the students.

‘AArrgghhhh!’

There was a sudden ripping sound.

The Mummy’s mouth moved slowly, and a soft, muffled shout escaped. The Mummy’s head fell limp to the left.

Across – on the Mummy’s chest – a smooth, cleared dirt road suddenly appeared like a path through the wilderness. A white strip of skin was exposed; then it turned a deep, tomato–red colour. The stripper examined the tape, inspecting the thick black chest hair of the mummy and the new red coloured dirt road. Hair and roots were dangling from the tape like a fly trap studded with flies. The fluorescent light in the room lit up the grey-coloured tape and juxtaposed the thick black hair on the grey, sticky side of the tape. It resembled the hairy situation.

‘Stop. Leave the tape. Don’t pull it off. Don’t traumatise him more!’

Afar off, a siren broke the silence of the quiet night, moving closer to the dormitory.

The rushing ambulance came to a shrieking halt outside the building. It was just too late. Or, was it just in time? Suddenly, the Mummy sat up, the front of its body still covered in sticky tape. His hairy back was exposed. The red stripe across its chest stood out like a prize sash: “The world’s most alive Mummy.”

Two paramedics ran into the room.

‘What on earth have you done!’ asked the first paramedic.

Her jaw dropped as she knelt next to the Mummy. She looked at the young Mummy in astonishment. Then she grabbed her chin in disbelief. The second paramedic grabbed his head. They were shocked.

The medics looked up at the wall where the silhouette of a mummy was still visible. The duct tape showed the outlines of the rescued mummy.

‘I have never seen anything like this in my life,’ she snorted and chuckled.

She reached for her medical bag and the oxygen mask.

The Mummy, now feeling safe, closed his eyes and fell asleep again. Dreaming on from where his dream was disrupted, not of Egypt or the Pyramids, but of drinking and playing cards.

‘Sorry, it didn’t work out the way we planned it,’ said one of the party-goers sheepishly.

———-0———

The now-half-sober male students in the dorm were looking at the silver pocket knife in John Benson’s hand.

‘Where did you get the knife?’

‘It is a long story. I will tell you later.’

—–0—–

The taped Mummy was taken to the hospital to sober up.

—–0—–

‘Tell us the story of the pocket knife?’

John Benson stood up as he pulled the silver pocket knife from his pocket.

‘If a scientist should take a swab of the dirt and grease in the cavities of this knife, he or she will be astounded,’ said the tape-cutting hero. John Benson was enrolled in a postgraduate Microbiology course at the university.

‘This knife belonged to my pop, who was a member of the New Zealand 28th Māori Battalion. He carried the knife with him during World War II. Between 1941 and 1945, the Māori Battalion forged an outstanding reputation in Greece, Crete, North Africa, and Italy.’

‘Wow, really.’

‘Since then, after returning from the battlefield, the knife had slaughtered many deer and wild pigs in New Zealand. Additionally, I have peeled and sliced tons of fruit and have kept my sketching pencils sharp for many years.’

‘However, there is one more amazing story.’

‘You have cut a mummy from a wall!’ The group of students burst out laughing.

‘Over and above the duct tape mummy DNA, you will find the DNA of an unknown baby in the knife’s cavities.’

‘What, don’t lie to us!’

‘It is a true story. My pop was in the parliament buildings midday on a Wednesday morning – around the 1960s – when he heard a woman scream.

‘Help, help, me. Please help me!’

“You will not believe what he saw?’

‘What, tell us!’

‘A lift was stuck between the first and the second floor. Two ladies were stuck in the elevator. Pop could see them through the open steel diamond-shaped shaft trellis. It was one of those old open lifts. It was lunchtime, and no one was around. When the lift stopped close to the second floor, the pregnant lady panicked. She gave birth right there. Luckily, a cleaner was with her in the lift. The cleaner stayed calm, sanitised her hands and got on with the job. She then called out to my poppa.

“I need a knife or a pair of scissors to cut the umbilical cord. Quickly, please!” Lo and behold, Pop had his silver knife in his pocket; he handed it to her, and she could wrap up the birth.

‘And, there you have the last DNA on the knife, explained.’

‘Let me hold the knife,’ said one of the students.

The students took turns to hold the silver WW2-umbilical-mummy-pocket-knife.

END OF THE SHORT STORY.

Research: Purchasing 50 items from eBay for $129 and reselling them for a total of $8,000.

In a TEDx talk on the power of storytelling, the speaker shared the true story of a researcher who had done just that. Here is the research in short. The researcher purchased 50 inexpensive items, ranging from 30 cents to approximately $3.00, on eBay. All in all, totalling $129. You may ask, how did they sell it all for a total of $ 8000? Good question.

Here is the secret: The researcher, using the power of compelling storytelling, pulled it off. About 50 experienced writers, poets, and authors were asked to participate. They each received an item, and then they had to create a random and creative story about the items. The range of writing included the most creative and innovative stories I have read. I have read 8 of the stories. They ranged from the most unexpected storylines one would expect, to unique and amazingly imaginative.

The story you just read – ‘Taped Mummy Saved by a Silver WW2 Pocket Knife; Rescued from the Wall of Death’ – is my attempt to match the creative writing of the 50 authors, writers, and poets. The only truth about the story is that I purchased the pocket knife in Hamilton, New Zealand, from a local thrift shop for $5. See the picture of the pocket knife on display on my desk in this article.

Also, see the ink and watercolour sketch of the duct-tape mummy by the author.

Silver Pocket Knife. See how the wear and tear – sharpening the blade on an oilstone – has produced a curved main blade. The knife is a creative storyteller. The knife is displayed on the author’s desk. Credit: William Van Zyl.

*The ‘famous’ silver pocket knife and the Mummy. From the author’s sketchbook – Ink and watercolour.*

A caveat: The stories in the research project range from appropriate to very inappropriate. Some of the language used in the storytelling will corrupt good morals.

Please note that I do not support or approve of the inappropriate use of language in storytelling. The stories ranged from innocent to explicitly sexual. However, most of these stories are brilliant. Congratulations to all the participants. Very, very creative stories! The significance lies in the fact that all these stories had a tremendous impact on increasing the selling price of every item. For example, items purchased for $0.99 sold for $35 to $55. Massive profits were made, up to 6000%. The goal was not to make a profit. All the money raised was donated to charities. The research confirmed that storytelling is a powerful force! We love stories.

My advice is to keep storytelling, including comedy and other creative writing strategies, appropriate and apply good taste. Strive for excellence.

Here is a worthy thought:

And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable–if anything is excellent or praiseworthy–think about such things.
Philippians 4:8 NIV

Do not lower moral standards, beliefs and values when writing. Always write up, not down.

Here is my second worthy thought to meditate on. Do not compromise the ancient morals and values established by our forefathers and ancestors.

Do not remove the ancient landmark which your fathers have set.
Proverbs 22:28 NKJV

There is more than enough room and opportunities to develop extravagant and highly creative writing skills. Be sober, be true, and uncorrupted – write up!

You are probably planning to find the website with all the items and their stories.

I include the story here of the writer and Graphic Artist (comics) Douglas Wolk. He is the author of “Reading Comics: How Graphic Novels Work and What They Mean” – Live at the Apollo. *A graphic novel is a novel in comic-strip format. When Douglas looks at the item—a portable hairdryer—he hears music. For those of you who love music, this is for you. After reading the story of Wolk, the hairdryer took on a different meaning for me. These stories inspired me to write the Taped Mummy Story, which helped me develop my creative writing abilities.

*Portable Hairdryer. Object No. 8 of 50 — Significant Objects v2. By Douglas Wolk | December 10, 2009.* link to the item: https://significantobjects.com/2009/12/10/portable-hairdryer/

Taken from the Significant Objects Website:

[The auction for this Significant Object, with a story by Douglas Wolk, has ended. Original price: $3. Final Price: $15.49. Significant Objects will donate the proceeds of this auction to 826 National.]

…In the final year of his career, however, Sanangelo became increasingly unreliable and obsessed with challenging both his listeners and himself, feeling that his work had become “too easy.” He made it a point of pride never to miss a gig. Still, his audiences (and the pickup musicians who fluttered in and out of the band after Conroy and the Behr sisters quit in frustration) never knew what they were going to get: surf instrumentals, free improvisation, half-remembered covers. One show consisted of an interminable quarter-speed jam on Minor Threat’s “I Don’t Want to Hear It.” At another time, he attempted to play the guitar with both hands wrapped in duct tape. Occasionally, Sanangelo would show up to a gig with a trombone or an accordion or some other instrument he’d never touched before, and attempt to get through a set while teaching himself to play it. Recording sessions from this period reportedly produced nothing usable.

Finally, on May 12, 1983, Sanangelo was sharing a motel room with Cowen in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, where he was booked to play that night. An altercation between them ensued sometime that afternoon; Cowen, in a rage, smashed Sanangelo’s guitar, and the two of them went on to build a bonfire in the parking lot and burn virtually all the possessions they had with them before the police arrived. Five minutes before showtime, Sanangelo turned up at the door of the Little Groove Hut with a black eye, torn clothes, and an unnerving smile on his face, carrying a small plastic case with a yellow travel hair dryer inside — the only item from his luggage that he’d spared from the fire.

Thanks to one of the few zealous fans Sanangelo had left at that point, there’s a bootleg of his final performance in circulation. It’s a mark of the facility he retained even then that it only took him a few minutes to figure out how to use the hair dryer as an expressive instrument, manipulating its speed and temperature settings and bending its airstream with his free hand to alter its pitch and tone. On the tape, the initial catcalls and whistles fade as Sanangelo fakes his way through a few of his old hits, and even manages a credible version of John Coltrane’s ballad “Naima.” Half an hour into the show, as Sanangelo was beginning what was a high-temperature solo piece, the club’s fuses shorted out, and he slipped out the back door.

Sanangelo subsequently retired from music, although archival recordings from the late ’70s continue to appear every few years; Conroy and Liberty Behr have continued to play together in various contexts.

About Douglas Wolk. He is the author of Reading Comics: How Graphic Works and What They Mean and Live at the Apollo.

And, at last, here is the website of the research project you want so desperately to see: SignificantObjects.com.