The Riddle Of The Sphinx
by P. Francis Booth
Herb stood by the tour bus, wilting in the heat.
“Here.” Rae handed him a brochure. “All about the riddle of the Sphinx.”
Herb took a look. After all, he was pretty handy with crossword puzzles and whatnot.
After a half hour he’d gotten it, just as the planets reached an alignment unseen for four thousand years. Herb blurted out the answer. There was a loud grinding and a deep rumbling roar. A massive shadow fell over Herb and his party. It was the last thing they saw as it roused itself and began feeding.
P. Francis Booth is embroiled in a struggle for whiter whites and brighter brights.