OCR Text |
Show john Harrington Freebish and a few close friends were sitting around his condo discussing the fine art of brewing beer. - Freebish had recently purchased all the ingredients needed to work up a batch of tasty home brew for his personal consumption and he had come up with a few winning recipes. Now, being the magnanimous guy he is, Freebish was touting the merits and methods of real homemade beer with his guests. Suddenly, crash, smash and wham goes the front door. In strides Elliot Ness, who has gone to work for the state of Utah following the repeal of prohibition. "Rico! Jones! - get over there and cover the exits!" Ness shouts. "This is a raid, Freebish, and the Liquor and Narcotics Division sends greetings." Behind Ness stand six goons with shotguns. They are wearing trenchcoats and wide brim felt hats pulled low over their ugly faces. They have ice cream stains on their ties. Ness holds a Louisville Slugger "Ducky Medwick" autograph baseball bat. He waves it slightly as he addresses Freebish. "Listen, punk, this is Utah. We don't care if you buy the ingredients for home brew, but once you mix it up and tell someone else how you did it, we move." The goons nodded silently behind Ness, waiting for the inevitable order to search "the joint." Ness grabbed Freebish by his right sleeve and dragged him over to a plastic vat in the corner of the kitchen sink. "Contraband, huh punk?" Ness asked Freebish, stuffing the bewildered man headfirst into the vat. "Get out of my way, you weasel," Ness shouted, throwing Freebish across the room with a flick of the wrist. "All right, boys, toss the joint," Ness commanded. With that, Ness took the baseball bat and began to smash Freebish kitchen to pieces. Beer splashed against the walls as the 10 gallon vat split like a ripe melon. Ness opened the dishwasher and dumped its contents on the floor where he pulverized it. Freebish's guests, their faces pinned to the plaster by the goons, watched in horror while the living room furniture was reduced to shreds during the search. About 30 minutes later, the deed was done. "Except for the beer, you were clean, punk. Who sold you this stuff, Frank Nitty?" Ness continued, "You tell Nitty that Ness is on to him and he better stay out of Park City." Freebish slumped to the floor. "We're going easy on you this time," Ness told the sunken Freebish. "No charges, consider this a warning," as Ness gestured toward the minimum $30,000 in damage inside the condo. On his way out, Ness turned at the door and said one more thing: "I'm working for the Utah Legislature, remember that punk. If you want to act like an adult, get the hell out of the state." Ness turned and said, "Rico, Jones, boys, let's go." With that, Ness went to a private club with a few of his favorite undercover agents and drank himself into a stupor on state-supplied mini-bottles. |