My Response to the latest Trifecta Weekday Challenge:
This was a good batch, he could tell from the smell. The old moonshiner poured his prize brew into the hidden tank of his ’66 Chevy and headed down the old dirt road, anxious to sell his booze to the highest bidder. He had made it a point to be extra careful this time, as the last trip almost ended in disaster, as the sheriff followed him right out to the county line.
This time he took care to add an additional gas tank to his car. The tank, made from an old hot water heater, would easily hold fifty gallons of the brew, and even if he were stopped by local law enforcement, they would never guess what he was hauling.
The road was clear on this trip, and that was just what he wanted. He blasted the radio of the Chevy, and beat his fists on the dash in tune with the old Johnny Cash songs that played loudly.
“Not like the good old days” he thought to himself, but he was happy to finish this batch, the last batch he planned to make.
“Moon-shining is not an easy life”, he thought, but it is the only life he ever knew. His dad was a famous shine runner, and so was his grand daddy.
In his rear view mirror he noticed another car on the road, a plain white sedan. Not just any plain white sedan, but one with red lights flashing.
“A Gall Dang Ghost car” he said, almost shouting to himself. As he cussed, a large rock hit the underside of his car.
The old hillbilly lit a cigarette and took a long draw. He threw the still burning butt out the window, into a thin trail of moonshine that ran behind him. A burst of flames followed the car as he screamed down the highway, and in a matter of seconds, it was all over. Kaboom! The moonshiner was no more.