Yeah, everybody's got a dirty mind, but that one doesn't even need a dirty mind. Anyway, so -- hey, Exposition Hands! -- we are told that the Roadblock will require someone to climb down ladders to the bottom of a shaft (hee, "shaft") and pull a satchel out of a sort of pond of disgusting water. They'll give the satchel to an Egyptologist who will give them another clue. (I can't think of anything dirty to associate with the word "Egyptologist," although I'm sure I could, if given enough time.) Mirna claims, unsurprisingly, that she can't do the Roadblock, claiming claustrophobia. Charla's like, "Okay, fine, Princess DeadWeight, I'll do it myself, AS USUAL." Although she uses other words. "I'll get the bag and I'll come back up," Charla says as she heads into the hole. "Take your time, honey!" Mirna yells into the hole. Yeah, you're a big help.
The Twinkies start looking for the yellow rocks. The Moms, for whatever reason, decide to follow them. Yeah, brilliant plan. As Linda and Karen try to follow the twins, Linda steps in a hole and falls. Karen comes back and asks if she's all right, and Linda says she isn't, actually -- she's twisted her ankle. Uh-oh. Oh, so vivacious. And so hobbled. Speaking of which, remember when Miss Alli's Mom broke her foot and walked around the zoo for hours? I have an update. She's got a removable cast on her foot right now, and she can walk around with a cane. The other day, she was detouring around the sleeping dog (!) when stubbed her toe on her cane (!!) and broke her little toe (!!!). That's on the good foot. So I appreciate all of your good wishes for her speedy recovery, but I'm afraid that they were somehow misunderstood by the universe, which read a loud clamor of voices calling out "Get well soon!" as a rowdy crowd yelling, "Cool! Break something else!"
Commercials. Oh, local tainted meat, how you do keep turning up.
We return to the pyramids, where Linda remains on the ground. Karen gives her a hand getting up, but it's clear that she did give her ankle a twist right there and isn't quite at full speed. "That hurt," she moans. My mom didn't moan, incidentally. She was actually laughing when she told me about her toe, because she pays more attention to absurd humor than to broken bones, which is pretty much how I like everyone to be.