<div class="floatright">(http://i207.photobucket.com/albums/bb117/hopefox17/Cuckoo.jpg)</div>The door of the pub slammed open as Cuckoo strode into the tiny pub in the equally tiny village she had finally reached. She had dropped her station wagon off at the service station with a mechanic who had directed her to this pub, and after having dragged several tonnes of vehicle over eighty kilometres, she felt that she deserved a drink.<br/><br/>Her dramatic entrance was somewhat marred by the need to wipe the mud off her feet before she set foot on the polished hardwood floor of the pub, but she got the attention of the whole common room regardless. Men and women looked up from their drinks to take in the sight of the huge, gorgeous, waterlogged woman in the doorway. The room seemed to hold its collective breath as Cuckoo trudged to the bar, where a young man hastily offered her his seat.<br/><br/>"Guinness," she intoned as she sat down, fixing the publican with a weary gaze. "One pint."<br/><br/>Cuckoo watched the publican pour the pint of Guinness, a painstakingly slow process, and the rest of the room watched her. Low whispers were exchanged, discussing who she was, whether she was available, and whether she was going to kill someone.<br/><br/>The publican slid the full pint glass of Guinness over to Cuckoo's waiting hand, and she raised it in a toast to the common room. "Long live Ireland!" she cried, and raised the glass to her lips. In the two seconds of silence before anyone thought to return the toast, she had upended the pint into her mouth, drunk the whole thing down without spilling a drop, and set it down on the counter with an audible clack.<br/><br/>"Another pint," she requested as she slid a pair of hundred euro notes across the counter. "And a round for all the fine lads and lasses here."<br/><br/>The tension broke like rain flooding in after a drought, and the crowd returned her toast. "Long live Ireland!" they cried, and a few came over to slap her on the back. The ability to drink a pink of Guinness in two seconds rarely failed to attract friends. Cuckoo felt the thick beer settling in her stomach, and the Legend flooding her ichor as the patrons acknowledged her supreme drinking skills. Her mood lightened, too, the warm atmosphere of the pub offsetting the frustrations of the day.<br/><br/>After a few rounds of conversation and another few pints of beer, she managed to get into the publican's office to make a phone call to Ormonde Castle, her family home.<br/><br/>"Callihan? It's Lady Caitlin. Can you get me Lord Carrick?<br/><br/>"Hi Dad! Yeah, I'm somewhere in Galway, I think? The car broke down. Listen, I'm about to head off on a big quest. Yes, for her. I know you don't like her, Dad, but it's important, and this is my big chance to make a difference, and make a name for myself. Can you get Banwell to pack my bags and meet me at Dublin International? I'll need my passport and the heritage papers for the spear. Yes, Dad, I promise I'll be careful. I love you too. Is Liam still awake? Thanks, Dad.<br/><br/>"Hey, sweetie! Mum's going on a trip to America, so she won't be home for a while. I love you, though! How is everything at school? ... Now, darling, what have I told you about getting into fights on the playground? ... That's right, keep your elbows up, and don't be afraid to throw the first punch. You be a good boy, alright, and look after Badb and Anna. I love you all so much. I'll bring you back something nice. Love, bye-bye!"<br/><br/>She returned to the bar to finish her fifth beer, and a plate of steak pie. Just as she was licking the gravy from her fingers, the publican poked his head in from the office. "Milady, I just got a call from the mechanic. He says your car needs some parts that are going to take a week to order, and maybe also an exorcism. I'm afraid it's not going anywhere tonight."<br/><br/>Cuckoo sighed. "Of course it's not. Oh well. That's alright, I know exactly how to handle this."<br/><br/>She turned to face the common room, and flashed them all her most charming, flirtatious smile. "Gentlemen! I need to be in Dublin by tomorrow morning. Could one of you generous young men give me a lift there?"<br/><br/>A minute later, Cuckoo was standing behind the counter with the publican, watching the ensuing mêlée as randy young men competed for the privilege of spending four hours in a car with her. "I'm sorry," she said to the publican. "I didn't think this through."