CJ scratched at his left eye before Monty whacked him on the leg. He looked down at the bunny noticing the fire floating between its ears.

  “Don’t pick at it.” Chided Monty before continuing. “Something bizarre is happening in there. Looks like one of the rocks with all the gems in them.”

  “Do you mean a geode?”

  “Yea that’s it.” Monty said gesturing with his paw up to CJ’s head. “The crystals are all connecting in the center. They aren’t even lengths either. We need to get you out of here and looked at by Doc Redmond.”

  CJ stopped in his tracks just before attempting to climb into the can. His left hand moved to his crystalline encrusted socket. He extended his index finger and raised just beneath his left cheek. Hesitation scoured his facial features until he poked at his own growing ocular cavity.

  It felt sharp and wrong. His finger came away with a light coating of mana blue mucus. He rubbed it between his index finger and thumb noting the way it crumbled into smaller particles. Not unlike crust that collects in the corner of your eyes after a long night’s sleep with the windows open.

  “What in the absolute fuck is going on with my eye?” asked CJ into the ether and receiving no response.

  Just then there was a loud cracking as some of the ice from above broke loose. Large slabs of the canyon wall started to pound into the already fracturing ice shelf all around them. Skipper jumped into the can, his weight jostling the aluminum barrel enough that it broke free from its containment. Monty landed atop the portion of the can that still had structural integrity around the outside of the mouth. He stuffed a paw through the pull tab on top to try and hang on. There was enough room for both men to enter the wide mouth, but it would be snug. There was no longer any time to choose. CJ cuddled up next to Skipper. Their legs were surrounded by cold beer below their knees.

  “Suck in your gut a little.” Complained CJ as he pulled out his revolver. “I’m going to need a good firing arc on this side.”

  “Thank god it was a gun in your pocket. I was starting to worry about dropping the soap.”

  Both men let out a tension releasing chuckle as the can broke free from the ice and they bobbed out into the current of beer. They picked up speed fast and CJ wondered if he’d swiped some oars somewhere along the line. Hitting any of the jutting ice cubes was going to be a problem.

  “If you two are done flirting, how do we steer this thing?” asked Monty.

  “I’ve got bad news for you, bud. We don’t.” replied CJ as he tried to turn so he was back to back with Skipper. The best he could achieve was right shoulder to left shoulder with him. “We’re going to have to use our hands to push us off of anything we might hit. That means we’ll need to brace for impact and then act quickly. You good with that?”

  “Do I have a choice?” replied Skipper as the first of many obstructions came into view.

  Monty called out every time they were about to hit something. Just in case one of them couldn’t see it from their angle. The spray of cold beer pelted them from all sides until they hit the cube. The can bounced and ricocheted off to the right side of the river. That put them down a channel that CJ tried to recall from before they slid down the cooler top. He desperately scoured his memory for which path had the most ice in it. The time for recollection ended as a pair of ice cubes broke the surface of the beer.

  If only there was some earthen surface around. He could use that very utilitarian Earth Fist spell to catch and redirect them. Unfortunately, the entire environment was made of ice, beer, and plastic cooler. The edges of the open can kept digging into his side as well. When they’re normal sized cans, the aluminum is very thin, and the edges of the opening can be sharp. At this size, all it would take At this size, all it would take is an hour of sharpening and you’d have yourself a crescent shaped axe head. These thoughts were all distractions as CJ tried to come up with a clever plan.

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  Monty freed his right paw from holding on like he was riding a jet ski. He cast Half-a-Bitch on both ice cubes. A blade of unaspected mana slicing through each chunk of ice. They split into four with the two pieces in the middle merging from the cold temperatures. It made a V shaped ramp that they were headed right towards.

  “Shit! I thought that would work. I was hoping they would slip back under the water.”

  “Now what, genius?” chided CJ as he peered forward with this one good eye.

  “Hold on.” Answered Skipper as he clutched the lip of the can in a death grip.

  The gently spinning can was swept with the current up and over the ice ramp. The bottom of the can scraping across the ice like Shawn White at the winter Olympics. Once they were airborne, the speed plus their weight forced them into an uncontrollable spin. They landed on the center slab of fused ice that split the two paths the river flowed down. Their momentum plus the fluid still inside the can had them slam down on their side and beg rolling. CJ reached out to stabilize Monty, but he was gone. He must have been ejected from the top of the can upon landing. Skipper yanked CJ’s hand back down as they rolled over a jagged piece of ice with bone crushing force. It even bounced them back out into the river.

  CJ was about to puke. Both from spinning unmercifully and the thought that he’d just lost Monty. The river seemed to slow a bit at this leg. His vision was still spinning as Skipper tried to get his attention.

  “Look! I can see the picnic table.” Shouted Skipper.

  “I can barely see… wait is there a way to get to it?” asked CJ as he put away his revolver and held his head in his hands. “Need to find Monty. Also, you ever go on that river rapids ride at Six Flags?”

  “I’m over here! Quick get to dry land, ya knob. Read your--” yelled Monty from the ice reef but CJ had no more time to listen.

  CJ tried to turn so he could see but he couldn’t get an angle as the can rotated in the liquid. He was now pointed at the picnic tablecloth which in hindsight was obviously where this all led too. That’s when an overwhelming sense of dread hit him. If there was no ice shelf at the end of this, how did they get to the table? All at once he knew. The panicked yelling from Monty, the increase of speed they now experienced since they cleared the bulk of the ice, the roaring of the beer rapids, and the frothing lager head he could see getting closer and closer.

  “There’s a fucking beer fall!”

  “What? Let me see.” Said Skipper as he tried to shift himself around.

  “I have an idea, but I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

  CJ began explaining his idea and Skippers’ face grew increasingly concerned the longer CJ talked. He tried to protest but CJ held up a hand and asked if he had a better idea. Defeated, Skipper began tilting the can so they would bob in and out of the beer. Both men rocking their weight back and forth. After a few minutes, the rapids became too strong, and the can was launched over the side of the falls. Monty yelled for CJ to flashport out the whole time.

  The can sailed over the edge of the cooler slamming onto the red and white checkered surface of the picnic table twice before coming to a rest length wise. Beer fountained out of the can ejecting both Skipper and CJ out onto the tablecloth. Skipper slid out like a newborn gasping for air while CJ spun out of the can, face down, arms and legs sprawled out like an Anheuser Busch star fish.

  His idea was to get as much beer into the can as possible. They could use it to absorb some of the fall momentum and hopefully not break every bone in their bodies. It technically worked. While some of the momentum was absorbed by CJ’s Kinetic Energy Converter, it was mostly Skipper bouncing off of him. Not him bouncing off of the inside of the can. Skipper was bleeding from various wounds as the passage from their metal conveyance sliced at his skin on the way out.

  CJ was mostly whole. He netted a cool fifty mana from the exchange. He was one mana shy of his total right now. Getting up on all fours, he coughed out some beer. It would be quite some time before he actually wanted a beer. Then his thoughts turned to Monty. How would he get down? His head whipped up to look at the falls, only to see Monty hopping down some sort of guided hiking trail. It had string tied between metal posts in a switchback fashion down to the table from the cooler lip up top. Monty was just leisurely strolling and he’d be down in another ten minutes or so.

  “Fucking… Monty.” CJ wheezed out before he noticed a slew of slate messages.

  New Message from Monty: Hey, there’s a trail here.

  New Message from Monty: Get out of the can quick.

  New Message from Monty: Shit, you aren’t reading these. I’m gonna yell over to… fuck your heading back into the beer!

  New Message from Monty: I’ll just meet you down there.