NOT SUCH A YUMMY MUMMY
WOW: key. Dean's been exploring the Batcave again; for once, Sam doesn't mind.
Disclaimer: guess what, I don't own them.
xxxxx
"Dean, how …?"
"It slammed shut behind me," came the muffled voice from inside the locked mummy-case, the final resting place of the pharaoh, dhueshb'haag, whose cobweb-strewn earthly remains were now unceremoniously propped against the wall.
Sam sighed; "can you breathe?"
"Yeah," Dean grumbled; "this thing's riddled with woodworm."
"OK, so where's the key?" asked Sam
"In my pocket," snorted Dean impatiently.
Great.
"C'mon Sasquatch, shake a leg; it friggin' stinks in here!"
Sam paused, eyes narrowing slyly; "hmmmmm, let me think …"
xxxxx
Juggling his beer and the remote, Sam slumped contentedly into the couch for a Dean-free episode of Downton Abbey.
He was thinking, honest.
xxxxx
end