“Open it” said the man with the gun. “Do it slowly.”
“Okay, okay.” Sam slowly reached into his pocket and withdrew the key. It was a large old one, ornate brass. Of course, it wasn’t for a mechanical lock. The key would recognize the DNA of anyone using it to open the chest in front of them.

Sam inserted the key, feeling a brief tingle go through his hand. Slowly, he turned it. There was a loud click and the man with the gun started. Time seemed to slow down as the man shoved Sam aside and reached for the chest. He opened it quickly.

“What the hell is this?” the man said, the gun moving to point again at Sam. “There’s nothing here!”

“Look again” said Sam. The man looked too late.

The lid had stretched up, opening wider and wider as teeth protruded from the edges. Suddenly it snapped closed and Sam was safe again.

His father had told everyone that his documents were kept in the old fashioned chest.

Really, he kept them in his desk.

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