trippin 42

Trippin 42

When I woke up first thing I did was my ‘Who the fuck am I’ routine while sitting on the toilet.  Then it was shower before I started the day.  I knew where the trike was without hunting it down with the GPS.  Not so much that I remembered putting it there, I just remembered that there was an underground storage room and that my trike was usually there.  Sure enough it was there that Friday morning as well.  Another bit of memory had returned.  I was thankful for every little bit.

In the review of the file, I found that I had a cooker, a condenser coil, and fifty pounds of deer feed in the cruiser.  It was stored there so that Sam wouldn’t get suspicious.  I might not have a good memory, but I could still read people and Sam was pissed.  I didn’t want him to have any information at all.

I almost decided to stop by the Home Depot for more materials, but I chose breakfast biscuits instead.  I didn’t really want to risk Sam seeing me messing around the parking lot with buckets.  Besides I needed Someone to drive the Cruiser for me, when I got the buckets.  Someone who wouldn’t ask any questions.

“So Sam, the file says we have a closing at 10AM is that the end of it?” I asked.

“It is,  I moved all my other pending closings to Michael Tate’s office.  You told me I could take them with me.”

“I did and that’s fine,” I said.  He had used the closings and probably the new accounts he was courting as his ticket into Tate’s office.  Tate was a successful firm, I was sure.  No I didn’t remember, but I knew Sam and he wasn’t going to start over again.  He told me often enough that he had his fill of struggling.  So there it was a 10AM closing to suffer through, then I was free.

The clients were on time, but the Realtor was late.  Nonetheless we finished by 11am, so I was satisfied.  When everyone was finished, I asked Sam,  “So are you going to take care of the papers?”

“Yes, I am going to file them now.  I think I will go on home from there, if you don’t have any parties planned.  No I don’t have anything planned, except to take the list of clients and double check that all the papers have been filed with the clerk of court.”  I saw the look on his face.  “I’m just going to make sure for both our sakes, that all the I’s are dotted ect.”

I called a friend, from the list Jeff had put in my index and had her check everything.  I didn’t want or need someone from the clerk of court coming to see me in a moonshine operation.  I laughed at the thought, since I didn’t really consider the little operation moonshining.  I considered what I was doing as simply preserving corn.  Just as the notes, I had from the colonial times, referred to it.

I walked out to the sign just to see how it was built.  I needed to know what I wanted to do with it.  I found that it was a simple pole with a cross bar at the top.  From the top hung a plaque with my information on it.  Removing the plaque was simple.  I didn’t have any tools or really know how to use them, if I did.  I also did not want anyone snooping around, so I made pictures of the hardware with my cellphone camera.

I passed Marie’s barbecue restaurant on my way to home depot, so of course I had lunch there.  I couldn’t get the five gallon buckets on the trike, but I did manage the set of wrenches, the set screw drivers, and the gallon of spring water.  Those I bungeed to the top of the battery box.

With Sam gone I began to mentally set things up.  I made a list of things I still needed to buy.  I needed a hot plate, with continuous temperature control.  Not some push button thing, but one with an oven type controller.  When I opened the bag of grain, I found that it was whole kernels.  I checked my recipe again, and it called for ground corn or corn meal.  Some quick research and I found for my tests purposes I could grind enough in a coffee bean grinder to do the job.  The coffee grinder was designed for that kind of grinding.

The office had a little kitchenette break room, complete with a sink, small refrigerator/freezer and microwave oven.  I had running water to cool the condenser, I had ice if it really needed a quick cooling.  I added plastic ice trays to my list of things to purchase.  It wouldn’t hurt to have a few more in the freezer.  I could quickly boil water in the microwave, if I needed to raise the temperature of the mash to dissolve the sugar or mix the cracked corn.  

The next thing I needed was a driver to take me and the cruiser to Walmart.  I chose Walmart more for the fact that no one there was ever going to remember me.  I needed a friend to drive not a car service.  It was a bitch to realize that I didn’t have anyone I could call on short notice.  No one I could trust anyway.

Who I called was the mad mechanic.  He informed me that if I brought the trike to him after 3PM, he would have a trailer ready to attach to it.  With the trailer I should be able to carry anything I needed, as long as I didn’t need anything to large, he informed me..

While I waited for 3PM I rode the trike to Walmart.  I left Walmart with the coffee grinder, and  hot plate bungeed to the top of my battery box.  I took both back to the office before I headed off to the mad mechanic’s lair.

The mad mechanic had done it again.  He built me a replica of an old school child’s toy freight wagon.  It was only a foot and a half wide and three feet long but it had four wheels and could be pulled like a child’s wagon.  It also had a hitch on the end of the short tongue which hooked to the hitch which had always been attached to the rear of the trike.  Yes the mad mechanic had built in a trailer hitch just in case I wanted to carry something larger than a bread box.  It wasn’t cheap, but then nothing the mad mechanic built ever was.

I swung by the house to switch the battery packs, so that I wouldn’t run out of power while I went to the home depot again for the buckets.  I also bought a case of sprint water in 8oz plastic bottles.  On the way back to the office I passed the $1 store.  I had no idea what was inside one of them, but I thought surely there must be something I can use in there.

I found a two cup glass measuring device.  They also had aluminum bike water bottles, so I bought two of them as well.  I found a box of coffee filters which seemed like a good idea as well as a set of three funnels to use with them.  So when I left the $1 store, I had spent $5 plus tax.  It seemed like a pretty good deal to me.

Making the mash isn’t too important, most of the time.  I mean the yeast just does its thing in pure corn liquor, but I was trying to modify the recipe of an old time Virginia Plantation version.

I decided to let everything sit until the next day.  I wanted to eat a decent meal and go home and just do nothing but watch some silly TV reality show on line.  I didn’t want or need to socialize.  What I needed was to get my plans into the file before I forgot them.  I also needed to get the trike and the trailer back to my storage space under the condo building.

I was just about to walk out the door when the phone rang.  “Hello,” I said.  

“Hello, this is Professor Phelps,” the voice said.  He sounded as though I should know him, so I entered the name into my index search and came up dry.

“How can I help you professor?’ I asked thinking it might be business.

“Frankly, calling might have been a bad idea.  You don’t seem to remember me,” he said.

“To be honest I don’t, but it isn’t because you aren’t memorable.  I have a little brain damage from an accident.  My memory is shit these days,” I replied.

“I am Bobby’s instructor.  You do remember Bobby?  He is the young man who made the drawings of you.”  It took me only a second to find bobby in the file.

“Yes Bobby,  So professor what can I do for  you?”  I asked.

“Frankly, I was wondering if you would have dinner with me?” he asked.  It sounded as if he really meant dinner.  Sometimes dinner was code for let’s fuck.  He didn’t sound that way at all.

“Professor, if you mean dinner and then home, I’m in.  If you mean dinner then playing grownup games, then not right now.  I’m not up to it right now to be honest.  So if you just want dinner, I’m good with it.  If you want more, call me in a week and we will discuss it,” I said.

“It’s just dinner for god’s sake,” he said.

“Then I’m in the Old Family Bank Condominiums.  You can find me on the directory in the lobby.  Meet me there at eight, if that’s ok,” I said.

“That’s fine,” he replied in agreement.

I decided that I would start the mash the next morning, so I left myself a note.  The first batch of moonshine would be made with a modern recipe, so that I could judge the difference, if there was any.

I made lots of notes in the file before I went home.  I had coffee and killed time changing my clothes five times before eight.  I kept an eye on the hallway camera until the professor showed up.  I could only assume that the man at my door was the professor, since I had no real memory of him.

“Hello,” he said when I opened the door.

“Professor Phelps, I presume?” I asked.

“Yes indeed and you are the beautiful Lucy Ayers,” he said.

“Well maybe not the beautiful, but the Lucy Ayers for sure,” I admitted.

“So, are you ready to go?” he asked.  

“If this dress is acceptable, I am ready,” I admitted.

“It is beautiful and so are you no matter what you think.”  He smiled broadly at me.

“I do like the way you think,” I replied.

“Do you h ave a preference for dinner?” he asked.

“I don’t know a single restaurant except those I ate in today.  Tomorrow, I will  have forgotten them,” I admitted.

“Wow, you really do have memory problems,” he said.

“I told you going in.  If we had sex and I orgasmed twenty times, I would not remember it.  Except I might guess that I was having pain from too much sex.  The details, however, would be gone.”  I didn’t tell him  how I knew that.  If I did, it would explain why I was not interested in sex at the moment.

“In that case how about my favorite Italian restaurant?” he suggested.

“I’m sure I can find something on the menu.” I said it with a smile.

“Good then let’s head on out,” he suggested.  “You are serious, you won’t remember the details of this date tomorrow?”

“No but I know what is going on in the hear and now.  I can call a cop, or can kick your ass, if you try to rape me.  I just won’t remember tomorrow.  Trust me, bad things can happen to you without going to court.”

“Not to worry, I don’t do rape,” he said.

About cindypress

sorry it is a mystery.
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4 Responses to trippin 42

  1. Shooter says:

    She might try some scented candles (suggest green apple) on incense to mask or cover the odor of the fermenting mash. An exhaust fan might work if vented high enough. Many of the old timers would use either a pig pen or chicken house to mask the odor if the still was close to civilization, otherwise, hide the thing in a “Holler” up in the hills if a spring or a branch could supply the large amounts of water needed.

  2. Walt says:

    42 added, Prof Phelps added to Cast
    narimasu.net/stories/carniegirl.htm

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