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Well, it seems my precious supply of hooch has run dry sooner than I thought. And what with the Temperance Army running rampant over this great land of ours - the end of Prohibition is nary in sight.
A good friend of mine, Abner Bosterly, has directed me to the local pharmacy to pick up something he called, “heroin.”
Apparently, it’s derived from poppy plants. I told him, “A full-chested fella such as I doesn’t fuss with flower-juice.”
Alas, he has insisted that this “heroin” will make me “forget all about hooch.” So tonight I’m going to fill my flask with “heroin” and have myself a real hooter-tooter.
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