Today, the Museum learns who fornicated Wax Patrick Stewart.

Say you didn't make it so.

You're standing in a neat line with the rest of your co-workers at the Wax Museum. The Museum air is frigidly cold, the thermostat being kept always at an arctic 67° due to the paranoid obsessive-compulsive command Hugo desperately maintains, despite the sculptor's assurance that the figures wouldn't melt below 99°. 

Hugo, the museum director, is pacing the front of the staff room with tiny quick steps, clearly trying (and failing) to contain his own impotent rendition of anger.

“These wax figures TRUST us,” Hugo explains, finally breaking the silence. “They trust us to care for them, just as the respected public figures who lent their likeness to these wax figures trust us to not use their likeness for anything but to give the public an afternoon of diverting, slightly eerie entertainment.”

Hugo has clasped his sweaty hands behind his back, and tries to create what you're sure he feels is a suspenseful silence. Standing next to you, Eric covers his mouth and fakes a yawn in order to toss back an indeterminate number of percocet. He stiffens as Hugo resumes his address with a theatrical shaking of his head.

“Do any of you know what nearly every celebrity asks before giving their consent to add their wax replica to our museum? 

Janet opens her mouth to reply, only to be interrupted when Hugo whirls around to answer his own question.

"They ask," He wails. "HOW DO I KNOW THAT YOU'RE NOT JUST GOING TO HAVE SEX WITH IT?"

Some of the staffers drop their heads in shame. It doesn't feel good to know that the worst fears of a celebrity have been confirmed. That a celebrity put his or her trust in you and you dropped the ball.

Jon raises his hand and asks how Hugo knows that someone had fucked Wax Patrick Stewart.

“I don’t want to get into it,” he says. “Suffice to say, there were some indentations. What's more, is there were stains! Now the sculptors tell me they can fill in the....disruptions to Wax Patrick Stewart's figure. But first you must be aware that the stains carry DNA!

Someone gasps.

"Now...I don’t want to have to ask everyone to provide me with a DNA sample. We’re a family here and we’re supposed to trust each other. So instead, I’m just going to turn my back for 30 seconds. If the perpetrator who violated Wax Patrick Stewart will simply walk up here, lay their museum-issued vest and cummerbund on the table here and walk out the door...then there will be no further questions, no prosecution.“

Hugo turns his back. For thirty seconds, everyone on staff looks to each other, trying to see if the culprit will come forward. No one steps forward. When Hugo turns back around, the disappointment on his face is palpable.

You raise your hand with a question.

“Wait, why would anyone try and have sex with the figures anyway?” you ask. “When you take off their clothes, it's not like there are any orifices or holes or anything for you to put your...your..."

Instantly you feel two dozen eyes scrutinizing you. Hugo looks at you and pauses with his mouth open in an "O" shape, as he begins to speak.

Before Hugo can ask you how you could possibly know Wax Patrick Stewart or any of the other figures in the Museum have no naughty bits, you make a break for it. 

You hightail it out of the glass double doors of the museum, startling the throng of overweight tourists who have no idea that the reason there is one wax figure missing is because he is lying in the back room, decorated with your shame, glass expressionless eyes gazing at the ceiling.

You round the corner into an alley and drop your vest and cummerbund in a dumpster, and once you're certain you haven't been pursued, you will end up in the park miles away, hiding in the bushes drinking sprinkler water for three days as you wrack your brain to try and figure out just what the hell you're going to do with your life, now that your dream of being a Wax Museum guard have been shattered forever by one night of erotic bliss.