AND SHE WAS NOT AN ADVENTURE I FLYNN CARSEN

A Bucket For A Crown

A Bucket For A Crown

After Cassandra had worked out the riddle of the rocks, nearly killing herself in the process, Flynn had hit one of the stones with the heel of his hand, revealing some sort of medieval safe concealed within its hard hollow. As the others debated what to do next, Clara just stood there staring at it, head spinning at everything that had just happened in the past five minutes. If she'd thought she was clever, she was nothing next to Cassandra, who had found the Crown by reeling off data like she was some sort of human computer, Jacob stepping up and helping Cassandra to focus when her mind went into freefall.

"We need a blow-torch," Jacob observed, his brow furrowing.

"Don't suppose you packed one of those, did you?" Clara asked Flynn, finally making him look at her.

"Actually, Cassandra did," Flynn said slowly, confusing everyone.

"Huh?" Cassandra asked, the most confused of all.

"In the truck," Flynn explained, "there's an oxygen tank and a First-Aid kit."

Again, confusion reigned.

"Go and round them up, cowboy," Flynn fired at Jacob, who promptly took off like a boomerang, too bewildered to challenge Flynn's order. "Idiot," he muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes as Jacob fell over his feet, almost landing flat on his face.

"He might be Southern, but he's not stupid," Clara said irritably.

"Never said he was."

"You just called him an idiot!"

"You might feel some fondness for our resident bronco-buster, but the rest of us don't," Flynn said, looking bored.

"I like him," Cassandra chirped. "He carries off a Stetson very well."

"I'd look hot in a Stetson and a pair of Daisy Dukes," Flynn said, pluming himself. "Yee-haw!"

"This isn't Rawhide," Clara snapped.

"Whatever," Flynn said, flapping his hand at her, "I don't care what you say; I'd definitely give Jessica Simpson a run for her money."

~*~

Cassandra watched wide-eyed as Flynn finished putting the finishing touches to his culinary creation, almost absentmindedly popping a cracker into her mouth, her loud crunching getting on Clara's last nerve.

"Wow, a cutting tool that is both effective and delicious," Clara said sarcastically, as Flynn then handed Jacob the cucumber-cum-blow-torch.

"Bacon would have been better," Flynn said, getting to his feet.

"Where are you going?" Jacob asked, confused.

"I'm going to get the rest of our gang," Flynn said, "and you fantastic three are going to get that crown."

"No pressure then," Jacob muttered, eying the medieval safe with some trepidation.

"So stay put, my little Munchkins," Flynn said. "It isn't over until the fat lady sings." And then he was gone, leaving the others blinking in bewilderment.

"That guy is nuts," Jacob said, shaking his head to himself.

"You don't think?" Clara said, rolling her eyes.

"He did just construct a cutting torch out of a picnic lunch," Cassandra said mildly.

"Which proves my point exactly," Jacob said darkly.

~*~

But sometimes the money's gonna run out
And you'll be standing on the corner with a belly full of doubt
Sometimes somebody's gonna bring you down
And you'll be standing on your own with a bucket for a crown...