Chapter 200

When I got home everything was normal. I went into shower then returned to the still house. I loaded the cooker with a gallon or so of soapy water in the back of the cruiser/van. There was no cleaning to do to the condenser. I went on with my plan to fill up twenty or so 12 oz bottles with the hooch. I got all that done by dark that same day. My choice became simple take the stuff out for a spin that night, or wait until I had some people lined up to meet me somewhere for a trail run. There were going to be the same risks regardless of when I did it, so what the fuck, I said to myself.

When I got to the house I had the cook pot and the twenty two bottles of hooch in the back of the less than half a minivan. I took the cook pot out and changed the water in it before I did anything else. I emptied the existing water out only after I swished it about a few times. Then I put about a gallon of very hot water in cook pot in the shower stall. It just wouldn't fit anywhere else which was just as well. I had hot water there and the janitor's type sink next to it only. As a matter of fact I didn't have any kind of water in the kitchen area of the box/house.

The big cook pot was pretty much clean and all the soap out of it went I moved it to the janitor sink. I couldn't make water from the faucets on the sink reach but I had managed to clean it.

I took a quick shower, put on a pair of the cargo pants, and a long sleeve tee shirt. I even wore one of the better looking parka's. I usually wore a ratty one to hide my pistol, but now and then I wore a nice one, when I wanted to impress people. This was my impress the boss moment.

"Hey Monk, do you think your friend bone crusher will be in tonight?" I left the message for him early in the evening. While I waited for him to call back I thought about his friend Bone Crusher. Every biker club in the country had a member with the nickname Bone Crusher. Not everyone with that name deserved it, but Monk's friend did deserve it.

He ran a biker bar and he ran it with a minimum of violence. He explained to everyone that he ran a neutral country type bar. "I run the Switzerland of biker bars." he explained to anyone who would listen.

I didn't want to drive all the way to Dobson to talk to anyone else. If I knew he was there, I could swing bye and talk to another dance type club. A lot of shit ran out of that club, so I had no idea whether it was a good idea to go there.

Then too Jim Boyle and his brother lived in Dobson. They were party guys, They liked to deal in the unusual, so they would love the stuff. I would have to let them sample it, which was a good idea regardless.

I was about to call Boyle, when Monk returned my message. "Hello there Silvie. I just called the crusher he will be in tonight and expecting you. You want me to come over and go in with you?" Monk asked.

"Monk, I get in much more shit with you, than I would without you. But thanks honey," I said.

Once Monk killed the connection, I made the call to Boyle. He said, "Let me meet you somewhere. We try to keep the business out of house since the Mary Ellen thing."

I need to stop at that biker bar on the Sparta road first, but I can give you a call after and we can meet." I offered.

"Works for me," he said.

So I left County Seat with at least two stops on my schedule. I headed to the Biker Bar Monk had taken me to almost two years before, when I was still working for the cops. I never turned on them, so they never had a problem when word went around that I was a cop. They just remembered the nights I got drunk and screwed guys in the parking lot. That convinced them that I wasn't always a cop. Sometimes I could be just a fun slut. Then when word smuggled down that I had been cut loose by the other side, they were willing to make room for me. That didn't work out quit as they wanted, but nobody went to jail either.

I went into the bar that night with a 12oz fruit drink bottle of pure green dragon. There are new guys on the door all the time. I wasn't surprised when I asked the complete stranger, "Is Bone Crusher around?" I asked it very respectfully, so if the conversation went rank, I could truthfully said it wasn't my fault.

"Who the fuck is askin'?" the bad ass looking biker type asked...

"Let me put it this was honey, I met the crusher before and you definitely ain't him, so run alone and get him." I said.

"You do not move from this spot till I get back," he demanded.

"What I can't even go back to the pool room and give blowjobs oh well," I said

"I should have known it was you," the morbidly obese bald man said.

"And I should have known you were still hiding behind fagots with motorcycles." I kept a close eye on the biker, who had met me at the door, He looked as though he might want to kick my ass.

"I should let you back those words up Sylvia but it takes so long to find one who will show up for work everyday." He looked over to the ones behind the bar. Those were the ones with the sawed off shotguns hidden under the bar. They were the ones I really feared.

"Okay Sylvia what the hell you here for now?" he asked.

"Here is the deal Crusher. I have decided to start brewing some green dragon the way it should be made. This is distilled from The Marijuana tea. It ain't one of those blended things. I have a very low capacity. So I'm offering it to a couple of my old customers until I reach the capacity I wan't to brew." I said. "Crusher, it ain't cheep."

"If you got a small glass behind the bar, I'll let you try it free. Just you and just one time." The bartender produced something that looked a lot like a pill cup. I poured an ounce of the clear looking liquid. The crusher took it in one mouthful. Her held it in his mouth a second and then swallowed it.

"That's some smooth shit Sylvia. The THC ain't as fast as smoking it, but it's smooth and you ain't gonna be seen smoking it either. So how much a gallon?"

I'm starting at $2.50 per oz anything less than a gallon. Each gallon at $300 and here is the deal I can guarantee that price for one order only. My capacity is low, if someone is willing to pay more for an order to get it, I have to go with the money. I'll honor anything we agree to until it is delivered then all bets are off."

"Let me have the rest of that 12oz bottle for $25 and I'll shop it around over the next few days. I want to place an order now for two gallons half now, half on delivery." he demanded.

That's fine if you want to risk someone else getting ahead of you in line on the second gallon. It has to be prepaid to secure your place in the manufacturing schedule." I said all businesslike.

"Damn you a hard woman, but okay. I'll pay you for two gallons in advance. So when can I expect delivery." Crusher asked sticking out his hand to me.

"Two weeks, we want the drop it somewhere else to protect us both." I said.

"You bet we do," Crusher agreed. "You let me know."

"No notice, just go pick it up," I said. "Give me your email for the GPS coordinates."

"Agreed," Crusher said.

From the Crusher's parking lot I made arrangements to meet Jim in a McDonald's Parking lot. I slipped into his car, when I saw him pull in. I was seated beside him, when I handed him a note. I said, "So how you doing baby."

"I'm doing fine. Why don't you and I go in to eat. I haven't been in one of these in years," he said, Not only that but a couple of cops doing an eavesdrop would stand out like a sore thumb, I had the last 10 oz sample of Green Dragon in my cargo jeans, so I wanted to be careful.

"You know I haven't had a Big Mac since some asshole decided they were death on a bun. Fuck it, I'm going to have one and a large order of French fries," I told the cute little girl behind the counter. I left the order counter and wandered into the dining room nobody was paying any mind to me. Even so I sat at the table next to a few teenagers playing rap music at their normal ear splitting volume.

We managed to negotiate a deal. Jim wanted to shop the hooch around, but he agreed to take the orders, and the money for them, before he called me. I gave him the same story as I had Crusher, Prepaid orders were processed before promises. I headed home after I closed out my first sales trip. I decided to wait until the next days to mash. I could take the ten days minimum it took to cook a batch to shop around the hooch I had on hand. Maybe I would try to package it in smaller quantities. and sell it at a higher price. Either way I considered my first trip a success as I undressed for bed.

The next morning I rode the bike hard for two hours. I felt better when I was all damp and sweaty. Not only did I sweat on those rides, but I let my mind wander. While not planning I realized that I felt good about actually creating something. I knew the state did not approve, but I could still feel good about it.

After my long tiring ride, rather than go straight home to shower, I stopped for breakfast at the Hardee's in the plaza. The highway patrol officers were there, some were on duty others were in civilian clothes. I didn't sit with them, and they didn't seem to mind. I figured they had already learned what they wanted to know. I hadn't felt too endangered by them, so I was fine with it.

After my shower and two more cups of coffee, I moved the water trailer with the empty clean plastic 32 gallon trash can sitting on top of it. I attached a short piece of hose to the janitor type sink in my bathroom area. I ran the hose to the water trailer and turned it on. During my first mash in I had used a ten gallon water cooler. This time was for real.

The trailer had been easy to swing around empty but the 30 gals of waster added one hell of a lot of weight to it. When I got the trash can almost full, I turned off the water. Then I pulled the trailer, with the disconnected hose from the utility sink as well, as the water tank back to the storage building. The water tank was closed so I knew it was staying clean. Once I had all the supplies ready, I stopped to have one last cup of coffee and study the lay of the land.

It took me a half hour to do my security sweep of the land and the computer tapes. I felt that no matter what happened later, I was starting with as clean a slate as possible.

I began by milling the corn from the deer feed corn. I ground thirty pounds of it. I planned to mash in 30 Gallons so I needed thirty pounds of corn meal. I had been able to back the water trailer up close to the storage room door. I put the empty trash can right beside it. I put the thirty pounds of meal into the can about 15 or 20 lbs at first, with the balance to be added later.

I was ready for the water. My solution for getting the water from the trailer to the mash barrel was to dip it with a plastic iced tea pitcher. After I had the barrel about half full of water I found the new electric drill with the stirring ladle drill bit attached. It wasn't as long as I would have liked but it might do. It didn't reach near deep enough, but I had known that it wouldn't reach the bottom from the beginning. That is why I had a very clean piece of pine shelving I could use as a boat paddle in case I needed it to reach the bottom. I had even done a quick trimming to shape it a little like a canoe paddle.

I had the grain completely dissolved in the mash barrel using only half the necessary water. I unhooked the cruiser van from trailer and drove to the box house with a thirty pound bag of sugar. I had a new paint bucker sitting in the floor of my box house while I ate a frozen Meat Loaf TV dinner.

While I ate the dinner and drank diet coke, I also heated water in my teapot. It heated water very quickly. While I finished that dinner I was able to heat the pot several times. I was able to make a simple syrup of the thirty pounds of sugar in about an hour. I took the time to check my security camera and the audio as well. Since everything looked good, I carried the simply syrup in a large water bottle.