Shmoop's crack team of P.I.s hacked into Wadjet's email account and found a few interesting tidbits. Get ready for drama in ancient Egypt.
Yo, Wadjet. I know we spoke a couple of weeks ago when you were chilling on my crown and stuff, but I've got a major bone to pick with you. Or fang to pick, depending on how you want to put it.
I went on a pilgrimage recently to your cult site at Buto in Lower Egypt. I gave you the best offerings I could afford—which was quite a lot, considering I'm the pharaoh and all. Heck, I even honored you to the max when it was your major festival last December. Needless to say, I went all out.
But when I went to the priestess of the oracle to hear what she predicted for me, I was a bit surprised. Since I honored you really well and all, I would've thought all of the predictions would be good ones…but she had some not-so-nice things to say. She told me that I'd become pharaoh, but my nephew/stepson, Thutmose III, might depose me or poison me or something to that effect. What's the deal?
Hey, Hatshepsut. I'm sorry about what you heard from my priestess. Are you sure she was sober at the time?
It's also possible that all of this stuff is true. She can be really reliable. At the very least, you'll be pharaoh, though! Have you considered what that might mean? You'll be the queen of the land, with no man to rein you in.
I really like that idea myself. Plus, you and I can form a really tight bond, since I'll be the one protecting you by sitting on your crown and poisoning anyone who threatens you. After all, I'm the uraeus, the tutelary cobra of awesomeness that keeps anyone from hurting the pharaoh.
That's really true. I mean, I don't want my husband to die, but if it means I get to be pharaoh, I can't wait to rule!
Your future BFF,
How's it going? I've been sooo hungry lately—for some reason, I haven't been able to find enough mice and other yummy things to eat. No one's been giving me enough snacks, either. Want to grab a bite to eat? I'm looking for somewhere outside my usual Lower Egypt hangouts. Whaddaya think?
I'm in the mood for something that's already been killed—something that I might be able to nibble on after hanging around its carcass for a bit. I could go for some nice mice myself…
Anyway, I wouldn't mind you coming down to Upper Egypt to chill with me and grab a bite to eat. We could go to that barbecue spot in Abydos. I heard that Osiris gave it a two-dead-thumbs up. It might be a bit difficult to get a table, though, even though we are goddesses. We might just need the lucky Eye of Wadjet to get us in. Eh?
I'm not sure I trust Osiris's judgment on that one. He also likes eating moldy bread and drinking old beer. What about that new Latin restaurant near my temple? The MexiKarnak?
Sounds good! I'll make us a reservation.