J.P.
Mrs. Zimmerman was making a stew. She was known for her delightful stews, but this one would be different. She had something special in mind. This particular stew would have a special assortment of ingredients. A barrel of Jack Daniels whiskey isnt the easiest thing to come across on a late Tuesday afternoon, but was a necessary facet to the recipe. She then proceeded to add the following ingredients: a thousand cloves of garlic, Bob Dylans Desire on vinyl, a skateboard, a box of used guitar strings, a diploma, a Sly and The Family Stone eight track, a big sack of kindness, a pair of flip flops, a Newcastle and a well worn leather hat.
While Mrs. Zimmerman was hard at work in the kitchen, the phone was ringing in the other room. She washed her hands, dried them on her apron, and went to answer the phone. When she picked up the phone, there was a sinister yet comical laugh coming though the receiver. For some reason, she was drawn to this laugh and could not hang up the phone. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Mrs. Zimmerman, she had intruders. The communists had snuck into her house and stolen her special brew. This brew was then transported to North Carolina by means I am legally bound not to discuss. The communists had something special; they just didnt know exactly how special it would become.
The communists took old moonshine running routes because of the secrecy of their mission. It was a bumpy road. Things were brewing inside the pot. They hit a big hair-pin turn and all of a sudden there was an explosion in the back. The vehicle flipped over the side of the road and rolled down the mountain. None of the communists survived the accident, but a strange slime came oozing out of the trunk. A new funk had been released into Earths atmosphere.
