following closely. Earl and his partner waited until the two older men had passed, then fell in behind them. They went up the stairs single file. As soon as they reached the top, the first thing that hit them was the heat. Donnie blinked, dense smoke in his eyes. Both men continued until they reached the front room of the upstairs apartment. Sitting in the middle of the room was a whiskey still made out of two fifty-gallon barrels welded together. From the top of it a copper pipe ran across the room to the cooler. The specially made gas range under the cooker was blazing; fire leaped out and around it, climbing up halfway on the outside of the connected barrels.
Shortman coughed. "Goddamn thing puts out enough smoke to kill a motherfucker," he cursed and made his way towards one of the bedrooms. Donnie and the other two boys followed him closely.
Inside the bedroom, barrels were lined up against the walls all around the room. The drums each contained cracked corn mixed with wheat rye, plus fifty pounds of sugar.
Shortman stuck his finger down in one drum and sucked the stuff off the tip. "It's bitter. Maybe you better run this batch off tomorrow, Earl." He didn't wait for a reply. He walked out and entered the bedroom next to the first one. Again he tasted the fermenting enzyme. He removed a large paddle and dipped down into the barrel. He stirred the corn and rye and sugar up until he was sure it was well mixed.
"You been stirring this shit up regularly, Earl?" He tasted the juice again. "Damn, this bastard is still sweet. Stir them up one more time tomorrow, Earl, then leave them alone. You should be cookin' this batch off some time this weekend."
Donnie stepped over and tasted the stuff. "I like this shit just like it is," he said to an empty room, Shortman and the two boys having walked out. He followed them to the whiskey still and watched closely as Shortman took a small glass and tasted the harsh liquid as it came out of the cooler.
"Goddamn, this is some strong shit!" Shortman exclaimed, almost blowing smoke from his mouth.
"How many gallons you think you goin' run off tonight?" Donnie asked, watching his partner cough with amusement.
"I don't know." Earl hesitated. "Somewhere between fourteen or sixteen, I hope. This is the second run today, Donnie. Blue picked up fifteen gallons this afternoon, so I figure our output for today to be somewhere in the neighborhood of thirty."
"That ain't too bad," Donnie answered quietly. He removed his bankroll and peeled off six tens. "That should be enough money for you to take care of your young girls with." He held the money out towards Earl.
Earl sneered. "Don't no bitch get no money out of me."
Shortman laughed and led the way back downstairs. They sat around for a few minutes talking shit, then Shortman stood up. "I got to be running, Donnie," he said as soon as Donnie had finished dancing with one of the girls. "What you goin' do, man, stay here with that jailbait or pull up?"
"Huh, I don't see no jailbait," the teenybopper said from the dance floor. She pushed out her chest, trying to make her tits seem larger.
Shortman laughed and started for the door. "Tell me if it has any hair on it," he said and went out.
The young girl cursed. Donnie grinned and beckoned her with his finger. She came over and sat down in his lap. He put his hand under her short skirt and felt around.
"Is it hairy enough for you?" she asked, staring into his brownish-green eyes.
"Don't let the hair part worry you, honey," he replied slowly, pulling her down on the couch.
She stared up at him. "Donnie, do you know you got green eyes?" she asked huskily. She spread her legs slightly as he let himself down on her.
"In a few minutes, baby, you won't care what color they are," he said, then added, "Can you dig it?"
She smiled slightly in the dim room, then pressed her young, firm body against him. "You goin' make me your woman?" she asked naively.
Once outside, Shortman took his time
Shortman coughed. "Goddamn thing puts out enough smoke to kill a motherfucker," he cursed and made his way towards one of the bedrooms. Donnie and the other two boys followed him closely.
Inside the bedroom, barrels were lined up against the walls all around the room. The drums each contained cracked corn mixed with wheat rye, plus fifty pounds of sugar.
Shortman stuck his finger down in one drum and sucked the stuff off the tip. "It's bitter. Maybe you better run this batch off tomorrow, Earl." He didn't wait for a reply. He walked out and entered the bedroom next to the first one. Again he tasted the fermenting enzyme. He removed a large paddle and dipped down into the barrel. He stirred the corn and rye and sugar up until he was sure it was well mixed.
"You been stirring this shit up regularly, Earl?" He tasted the juice again. "Damn, this bastard is still sweet. Stir them up one more time tomorrow, Earl, then leave them alone. You should be cookin' this batch off some time this weekend."
Donnie stepped over and tasted the stuff. "I like this shit just like it is," he said to an empty room, Shortman and the two boys having walked out. He followed them to the whiskey still and watched closely as Shortman took a small glass and tasted the harsh liquid as it came out of the cooler.
"Goddamn, this is some strong shit!" Shortman exclaimed, almost blowing smoke from his mouth.
"How many gallons you think you goin' run off tonight?" Donnie asked, watching his partner cough with amusement.
"I don't know." Earl hesitated. "Somewhere between fourteen or sixteen, I hope. This is the second run today, Donnie. Blue picked up fifteen gallons this afternoon, so I figure our output for today to be somewhere in the neighborhood of thirty."
"That ain't too bad," Donnie answered quietly. He removed his bankroll and peeled off six tens. "That should be enough money for you to take care of your young girls with." He held the money out towards Earl.
Earl sneered. "Don't no bitch get no money out of me."
Shortman laughed and led the way back downstairs. They sat around for a few minutes talking shit, then Shortman stood up. "I got to be running, Donnie," he said as soon as Donnie had finished dancing with one of the girls. "What you goin' do, man, stay here with that jailbait or pull up?"
"Huh, I don't see no jailbait," the teenybopper said from the dance floor. She pushed out her chest, trying to make her tits seem larger.
Shortman laughed and started for the door. "Tell me if it has any hair on it," he said and went out.
The young girl cursed. Donnie grinned and beckoned her with his finger. She came over and sat down in his lap. He put his hand under her short skirt and felt around.
"Is it hairy enough for you?" she asked, staring into his brownish-green eyes.
"Don't let the hair part worry you, honey," he replied slowly, pulling her down on the couch.
She stared up at him. "Donnie, do you know you got green eyes?" she asked huskily. She spread her legs slightly as he let himself down on her.
"In a few minutes, baby, you won't care what color they are," he said, then added, "Can you dig it?"
She smiled slightly in the dim room, then pressed her young, firm body against him. "You goin' make me your woman?" she asked naively.
Once outside, Shortman took his time
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