A Drink for the Road.
"What a day..." Maria said as she slammed the door of her car behind her. After a twelve-hour shift at one of the local dairy farms, she'd just pulled into the town's only bar's parking lot. Well, it wasn't much of a bar these days. They had stopped selling alcohol about a year ago. Well, the whole town had. People voted them a dry location last year, and the mayor had worked hard to ensure that passed. Now, the bar was more like a place where people came to listen to TV and complain that they couldn't drink alcohol anymore. People complained about many things, even when they were the reasons for them.
"A useless expense." The mayor and his fellow politicians had declared during voting season. Everyone had gotten caught up in the idea. Now, the place didn't sell a single drop of alcohol. He hadn't been wrong, though the sales of most recreational substances had dropped that year. No one wanted to go out to bars or stores when it was more comfortable to be home.
"What do you mean you're a dry town?" The first complaint Maria heard came as she walked into the bar and returned to her usual seat. The bartender gave her a nod and passed over a mug of hot liquid. Maria accepted, thankfully. The town had a lot of visitors. Many people wanted to come to town, and there were rumors of ghosts and spooky things. The local motels were kept in order, and the sheriff's department was busy shooing teenagers out of old buildings.
"I told you, we don't serve alcohol anywhere in town. You are better off going to the next town to find anything. I hear they got a whole liquor store there, too." The bartender said as he smiled forcing himself to seem as personable as possible.
"Though I wouldn't suggest traveling the roads anywhere till dawn. We don't have any lights on most of these streets." Maria knew he wasn't shitting the guy because his wife ran the motel, either. Only Main Street had lights, and every road in town was dirt, not precisely what you wanted to be driving at night if you didn't know the area.
Maria sipped from her mug as she watched the tourists argue. "Come on, you got to have something." The visitor insisted. Maria looked to the tender, who looked like he was just about at the end of his rope. She knew he kept the place stocked, but she wasn't sure the new-face-in-town would like any of the local selections. Backroom-made drinks rarely sat with those who weren't used to them.
"Fine, fine..." The tender said as he reached under the bar and removed a blackened bottle from below. He poured the liquid into a mug similar to Maria's and passed it over to the thirsty patron, or whatever they wanted to call him. It steamed as though it was kept on some kind of bottle warmer.
The tourist picked up the cup and took a long sip, expecting the burn of alcohol, some kind of bathtub moonshine. He was shocked at the bitter, coppery taste that poured into his mouth. He leaned forward, spitting out the liquid on the table. A red color covered the bar, causing everyone nearby to gasp. Even Maria found herself picking up her cup and inching back away from the spill of red pouring out of the man as he gaged.
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