THE LEGEND OF THE


Flaming Scorpion Bowl


You may have noticed that the staff of Flask & Cannon has a youthful glow unlike anything you’ve ever seen. While most people suspect that their young appearance is the result of a lot of exercise, plastic surgery, or some sort of nuclear anti-aging cream that hasn’t been released yet, the real story is far more complicated. It begins many years ago in a country far, far, away… (it’s Spain… but that might as well be a galaxy far, far away).

In 1511, Ponce de Leon could be found in the same place every night — eight drinks deep at the end of Rigby Flask and Bartholomew J. Cannon’s bar in Barcelona gesturing wildly while drunkenly rambling about any number of dumb schemes. As he got drunker, so too would the stupidity of his ideas. He was roundly mocked for his claim that eventually man would walk on the moon, nearly laughed out of the bar when he described something he called “the internet,” and universally regarded as a babbling idiot for his contention that one could make a small fortune writing poorly crafted young adult fiction stories about amorous teenage vampires (people got tired of him saying he was “hashtag TeamEdward” REAL fast).

Ponce also wasn’t a huge fan of paying his tab and yet he always seemed to have a new, spiffy conquistador’s hat every time he stepped into the bar. Running the best rum bar in Spain wasn’t exactly cheap, and Flask and Cannon had reached their wits end with both Ponce’s crazy ideas and his inability to budget accordingly for his booze. One night, they grabbed Ponce by his frilly skirt (that curiously wasn’t in fashion in 1511) and threw him to the gutter in front of the bar.

“Don’t come back until you can pay your bill, Ponce!” they yelled. “Also, the werewolf kid in your dumb vampire story is a way better suitor for Bella. #TeamJacob, bitch!”

The last thing Ponce wanted at the time was to be permanently banned from the best rum bar in all of Europe. It was there, lying in the gutter in the breaking dawn, that he decided he’d have to reveal the most valuable information he possessed to remain in good standing at his favorite bar.

He’d have to tell Flask and Cannon the directional coordinates to The Fountain of Youth.

How Ponce came upon this information is still unknown, but when he told Flask and Cannon the legend of a wellspring that delivered eternal life, they were intrigued. They’d been in the rum game for several years and they weren’t getting any younger (this is foreshadowing, dear reader), and while Ponce wasn’t exactly the most credible conquistador, Flask and Cannon couldn’t resist the urge to embark on a journey they hoped would change their lives.

The next morning, Ponce awoke in the gutter covered in the pungent stench of regret and well, gutterstench. His conquistador hat was missing and while the events of the previous night were hazy at best, he knew he’d revealed his biggest secret to Flask and Cannon. Knowing those two, they’d probably find The Fountain of Youth and then build a cheesy tourist trap around it to lure in gullible tourists in some place called St. Augustine or something.

As he pulled himself from the clutches of the gutter, Ponce looked up to find Flask and Cannon’s bar closed down with only a note pinned to the door that read “Off to La Florida! Thanks for the conquistador cap, Ponce.” Not only had Flask and Cannon left town with his greatest secret, they’d also helped themselves to his spiffy, yet elegant conquistador cap. This was such an infuriating slight that he vowed to avenge the wicked deed in the swiftest of fashions.

After buying a new conquistador hat (his commitment to premium headgear would always take precedent), he set off for La Florida in hot pursuit of Flask and Cannon, The Fountain of Youth, and what remained of his dignity.

He would be too late. After months at sea, Flask and Cannon had all but given up until they spotted a light flickering in the distance. As they grew closer to the mythic La Florida, they realized that the light was coming from a mysterious torch.

If you guessed that said torch was of the tiki persuasion, then you’ve read placemats with clumsy literary devices before!

Leaping from the bow of their boat with all the strength they could muster, Flask and Cannon fell to their knees at the base of the glowing beacon. It was there, clutched in the pincers of the largest scorpion that they’d ever seen, that they found a bowl filled with liquids beyond their wildest dreams.

After prying the bowl from the vice-like grip of the scorpion, they took enormous swigs befitting of two travelers who’d just spent months at sea, Flask and Cannon took turns raising up “Shots de Leon” and drained the bowl in record time (drink responsibly, friends). The delicious liquid that flowed throughout their bodies resulted in a resurgence of energy unique to any rum buzz they’d ever experienced (and they’d experienced ALL of the rum buzzes). They had found The Fountain of Youth Ponce described — it flowed from a flaming scorpion bowl nestled underneath a tiki torch.

Now would be a good time to ask your bartender about the Flaming Scorpion Bowl. Not only is it great device for preposterous historical fiction, it’s large enough for your whole party!

Halfway to Florida, Ponce was struck with a realization. Try as he might to convince himself otherwise, he knew that Flask and Cannon had obviously found The Fountain of Youth he’d described. He was ruined, left only with fashion-forward headgear, his own failure, and a few half-assed ideas for young adult fiction stories about horny teenage vampires. Stories, which would be passed down through generations of the de Leon family and were eventually turned into a series of terrible books and movies that helped fund a certain tourist trap in St. Augustine.

In the coming years, Flask and Cannon would realize that there’s a lot of responsibility that comes with being forever young. They saw the incredible opportunity bestowed upon them, and they seized it. In addition to opening the best rum-based tiki bar in Jacksonville Beach, they paid homage to the restorative powers of the Flaming Scorpion Bowl and tiki torch in ways that had an immeasurable historical impact. To wit:

When The Old North Church ran out of torches the night of Paul Revere’s ride, who do you think was there with two tiki torches to signal that the redcoats were coming by sea? Rigby Flask and Bartholomew J. Cannon.

When their pal Thomas Edison lamented that he couldn’t figure out how to make an incandescent light bulb, who do you think told him about their experiments with tungsten tiki torches? Rigby Flask and Bartholomew J. Cannon.

Rigby and Bartholomew would also like to take this time to sincerely apologize to Mrs. O’Leary and her cow for blaming the bovine after a particularly riotous tiki party got out of hand in Chicago.

One look behind the bar of Flask & Cannon (established: 1512) and you’ll know why the staff appears to be aging remarkably well. They’re all actually 500 years old. Thanks to Ponce de Leon, the best rum on Earth (again: see our menu!), and the power of the tiki torch, Rigby Flask and Bartholomew J. Cannon shaped world events more than you’ll ever know. Their one regret? They failed to stop Ponce de Leon’s ancestors from publishing his truly abysmal series of young adult stories about amorous teenage vampires under the pseudonym Stephanie Meyer.

**We’re not saying that you’ll be granted eternal life by drinking from The Flaming Scorpion Bowl on our menu, but we’re not saying you WON’T, either.

THE LEGEND OF THE

Flaming Scorpion Bowl


You may have noticed that the staff of Flask & Cannon has a youthful glow unlike anything you’ve ever seen. While most people suspect that their young appearance is the result of a lot of exercise, plastic surgery, or some sort of nuclear anti-aging cream that hasn’t been released yet, the real story is far more complicated. It begins many years ago in a country far, far, away… (it’s Spain… but that might as well be a galaxy far, far away).

In 1511, Ponce de Leon could be found in the same place every night — eight drinks deep at the end of Rigby Flask and Bartholomew J. Cannon’s bar in Barcelona gesturing wildly while drunkenly rambling about any number of dumb schemes. As he got drunker, so too would the stupidity of his ideas. He was roundly mocked for his claim that eventually man would walk on the moon, nearly laughed out of the bar when he described something he called “the internet,” and universally regarded as a babbling idiot for his contention that one could make a small fortune writing poorly crafted young adult fiction stories about amorous teenage vampires (people got tired of him saying he was “hashtag TeamEdward” REAL fast).

Ponce also wasn’t a huge fan of paying his tab and yet he always seemed to have a new, spiffy conquistador’s hat every time he stepped into the bar. Running the best rum bar in Spain wasn’t exactly cheap, and Flask and Cannon had reached their wits end with both Ponce’s crazy ideas and his inability to budget accordingly for his booze. One night, they grabbed Ponce by his frilly skirt (that curiously wasn’t in fashion in 1511) and threw him to the gutter in front of the bar.

“Don’t come back until you can pay your bill, Ponce!” they yelled. “Also, the werewolf kid in your dumb vampire story is a way better suitor for Bella. #TeamJacob, bitch!”

The last thing Ponce wanted at the time was to be permanently banned from the best rum bar in all of Europe. It was there, lying in the gutter in the breaking dawn, that he decided he’d have to reveal the most valuable information he possessed to remain in good standing at his favorite bar.

He’d have to tell Flask and Cannon the directional coordinates to The Fountain of Youth.

How Ponce came upon this information is still unknown, but when he told Flask and Cannon the legend of a wellspring that delivered eternal life, they were intrigued. They’d been in the rum game for several years and they weren’t getting any younger (this is foreshadowing, dear reader), and while Ponce wasn’t exactly the most credible conquistador, Flask and Cannon couldn’t resist the urge to embark on a journey they hoped would change their lives.

The next morning, Ponce awoke in the gutter covered in the pungent stench of regret and well, gutterstench. His conquistador hat was missing and while the events of the previous night were hazy at best, he knew he’d revealed his biggest secret to Flask and Cannon. Knowing those two, they’d probably find The Fountain of Youth and then build a cheesy tourist trap around it to lure in gullible tourists in some place called St. Augustine or something.

As he pulled himself from the clutches of the gutter, Ponce looked up to find Flask and Cannon’s bar closed down with only a note pinned to the door that read “Off to La Florida! Thanks for the conquistador cap, Ponce.” Not only had Flask and Cannon left town with his greatest secret, they’d also helped themselves to his spiffy, yet elegant conquistador cap. This was such an infuriating slight that he vowed to avenge the wicked deed in the swiftest of fashions.

After buying a new conquistador hat (his commitment to premium headgear would always take precedent), he set off for La Florida in hot pursuit of Flask and Cannon, The Fountain of Youth, and what remained of his dignity.

He would be too late. After months at sea, Flask and Cannon had all but given up until they spotted a light flickering in the distance. As they grew closer to the mythic La Florida, they realized that the light was coming from a mysterious torch.

If you guessed that said torch was of the tiki persuasion, then you’ve read placemats with clumsy literary devices before!

Leaping from the bow of their boat with all the strength they could muster, Flask and Cannon fell to their knees at the base of the glowing beacon. It was there, clutched in the pincers of the largest scorpion that they’d ever seen, that they found a bowl filled with liquids beyond their wildest dreams.

After prying the bowl from the vice-like grip of the scorpion, they took enormous swigs befitting of two travelers who’d just spent months at sea, Flask and Cannon took turns raising up “Shots de Leon” and drained the bowl in record time (drink responsibly, friends). The delicious liquid that flowed throughout their bodies resulted in a resurgence of energy unique to any rum buzz they’d ever experienced (and they’d experienced ALL of the rum buzzes). They had found The Fountain of Youth Ponce described — it flowed from a flaming scorpion bowl nestled underneath a tiki torch.

Now would be a good time to ask your bartender about the Flaming Scorpion Bowl. Not only is it great device for preposterous historical fiction, it’s large enough for your whole party!

Halfway to Florida, Ponce was struck with a realization. Try as he might to convince himself otherwise, he knew that Flask and Cannon had obviously found The Fountain of Youth he’d described. He was ruined, left only with fashion-forward headgear, his own failure, and a few half-assed ideas for young adult fiction stories about horny teenage vampires. Stories, which would be passed down through generations of the de Leon family and were eventually turned into a series of terrible books and movies that helped fund a certain tourist trap in St. Augustine.

In the coming years, Flask and Cannon would realize that there’s a lot of responsibility that comes with being forever young. They saw the incredible opportunity bestowed upon them, and they seized it. In addition to opening the best rum-based tiki bar in Jacksonville Beach, they paid homage to the restorative powers of the Flaming Scorpion Bowl and tiki torch in ways that had an immeasurable historical impact. To wit:

When The Old North Church ran out of torches the night of Paul Revere’s ride, who do you think was there with two tiki torches to signal that the redcoats were coming by sea? Rigby Flask and Bartholomew J. Cannon.

When their pal Thomas Edison lamented that he couldn’t figure out how to make an incandescent light bulb, who do you think told him about their experiments with tungsten tiki torches? Rigby Flask and Bartholomew J. Cannon.

Rigby and Bartholomew would also like to take this time to sincerely apologize to Mrs. O’Leary and her cow for blaming the bovine after a particularly riotous tiki party got out of hand in Chicago.

One look behind the bar of Flask & Cannon (established: 1512) and you’ll know why the staff appears to be aging remarkably well. They’re all actually 500 years old. Thanks to Ponce de Leon, the best rum on Earth (again: see our menu!), and the power of the tiki torch, Rigby Flask and Bartholomew J. Cannon shaped world events more than you’ll ever know. Their one regret? They failed to stop Ponce de Leon’s ancestors from publishing his truly abysmal series of young adult stories about amorous teenage vampires under the pseudonym Stephanie Meyer.

**We’re not saying that you’ll be granted eternal life by drinking from The Flaming Scorpion Bowl on our menu, but we’re not saying you WON’T, either.