Responsibility???? Now you see.
Pete is Sneaky he comes a calling
Some years later, in the course of time we moved now further out of town to what we look back upon through the misty fog and blur of time to call our old farm. The war in Europe was just beginning a mad man had come to power sadly one or two of the boys were old enough to join. The girls all volunteered for things, The USO and other groups, Mama made her garden larger soon the ration stamps came out. More of this will come along but get set for the simple story of a cursed old friend one we’ll call ole sneaky Pete and how he and Mr. Hacker met.
Now this was when our Pappy was happily making his own home brew.
Here I’ll interject that momma did not approve of drink in any form but thought it always better that he did it in the home. Saturday was set aside for his night to imbibe in his home made brew. As it was a friend or two sometimes did stop in. Now his home brew when it was done did not last so long but pappy he was careful to save the bottles for his next short run and the yeast upon the bottom was carefully set aside. It’s the yeasty mix this sweet concoction that now fuels our tale.
For on this night old Gene Hacker had come to call at slightly after six. He’d been out hunting all that day and nothing did he get except so cold and twisted his arthritis had him bent.
Of our pappy he did ask hey David do you have one shot, sadly the answer given was that he had not.
HOWEVER Pappy waved him over pushed a chair his way then he got up so slow and silently in a whisper low he asked old Gene a question so momma could not hear do you know anything about old Pete. Mr. Hacker looks at him and says what ever do you mean?
Well now pappy says to him! A grin just now appearing, on his crooked slightly twisted lips, as he spoke now too his friend; let me show you , I’ll tell ya all about him then.
So to the pantry way back inside into the darkest recess he did step, then he did return from the cool dark place with in a bottle tucked tightly under both his arms another held tightly in each hand. With a glint of a smile on his lips with that sparkle always found shining in his eyes. Setting them upon the table he slowly slides the first one over to his friend. He then whispers to his pal in a voice so soft so low Gene ole boy just give this a try.
Gene he looks at pap slowly pops the top as a connoisseur might do he draws a breath a smell of what now lay in side. O now too the aroma the smell it is so sweet so pure ambrosia O sweet nectar it found to tickle at ones nose hair. He raises up that bottle sips O just a bit savoring the liquid ever O so sweet. Setting it upon the table too my pappy say David man this is a treat why have you kept it hid?
Pappy he just smiles then this is what he says, my friend this is the end product of my home brew. Each year I gather it and save it for myself sometime like now I’ll share maybe one or two. Gene he smiles and drinks it up thanking pappy even more. But my friend a warning I must pass along to you. For this brew it has a kick and it will come on you quick. All this is said as Gene he finished bottle number two. Mr. Hacker he gets up and heads now to the door puts on his boots his jacket with his old vest, picks up his gun then bids us all good night.
Early the next morning slightly after six there’s a pounding on the door Mrs. Hacker and her son are there, seems Gene he never made it home. Momma brings them to the kitchen, pours her some hot coffee as she sits where old Gene had sat only a few hours ago. She then tells the boys to get ready, to go look for Mr. Gene.