"Medicinal Purposes" for the Short Affair Challenge- originally due 1/28/19

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Challenge: The Short Affair

-Prompt Word 1 - Barrel

-Prompt Word 2 – Shave

-Prompt Colour – Orange

Title: ‘Medicinal Purposes’

Author: mrua7

Word Count: Approx. 735

Staring down the barrel of a 12 gauge shotgun was not something Illya Kuryakin ever cared for. Holding the weapon on him was a grizzled looking man, unkempt and in need of a shave.

“What you doin’ creepin’ round here bud?” The man had a deep whiskey voice no doubt from years of over imbibing; the smell of booze and stale cigarettes emanated from him.

“I am looking for my friend. He is about five foot ten, dark hair, hazel eyes. He is a good looking fellow, with a dimpled chin. Very well dressed in a grey suit.”

“Him? Oh I seen him all right. He was pounding them down with me last night. Poor feller, he was a lightweight.”

“And…?”

“He’s in the back room sleeping it off.”

“Would you mind pointing that thing in another direction?” Illya nodded at the gun.

“Oh sure, sorry Mister. Can’t be too careful nowadays. Follow me.”

Kuryakin, walking behind the man, carefully drew his weapon from his shoulder holster, ducking the gun out of sight in case this was a trap.

The door to the back room opened and his manky looking host gestured with his hand.

“Here he is. Poor feller tried to out drink me. Seems he wanted to know where some people had set up their operation on the mountain. I know where all the stills are ‘round these here parts. If’n you’re revenuers, then ya’ll could get rid of my competition, but you might get rid of me too.”

Illya walked over to his partner who was laying on a cot, covered by a tattered orange blanket.  He was alive but his breath reeked of alcohol.

“I figured I’d take the risk and tell him what he wanted to know once he woked up and was sober. No way he’d remember ‘cause he was purty drunk last night.”

“Napoleon, wake up.” Illya called out. It wasn’t advisable to touch the American as that would only end up in a flying fist swung at him.

Solo moaned as he opened his eyes, raising a hand to his forehead.

“Where’s the bus that ran over me?” He slowly sat up, looking in disgust at the blanket as he tossed it aside.

“No wonder you're feelin' poorly Mister, that was pretty high proof moonshine you wuz poundin’ back. Surprised at what you managed ‘afore you passed out.”

“Napoleon he thinks we want to know where the illicit stills are located on the mountain,” Illya whispered as he helped his partner to his feet.

“All I asked him was if he knew of any unusual operations going on around the mountain.”

“Sir, my friend and I are not revenuers. We are not looking for illegal stills,” Illya said. “We are looking for any sort of unusual operations that have come to the area recently. Something that seems out of the ordinary to you."

“Ohhhh, why didn’t you say so.”

“I thought I did,”Napoleon said while massaging his temples.

Their host merely shrugged. “Well there is something goin’ on over the north side. Bunch a fellers in green jumpsuits and wearin’ what ch-em-call...barettes.”

“You mean berets?” Napoleon asked.

“Yeah, them black hats that them Frenchies wear.”

“Thank you Mister…”

“McGinty, George McGinty but ‘round here folks call me Whiskey George.”

“Thanks for the help and the use of your cot,” Napoleon said.  He took hold of Illya’s elbow and guided him out of the room and said nothing until they left the building.

“Don’t ask,”Napoleon mumbled.

“I was not going to. I think your situation was perfectly self explanatory; you could not hold your liquor.”

“Oh so you could when it comes to moonshine?”

“My friend I was practically raised on what you call moonshine. Many people back home made their own vodka...mainly potato vodka. It was better that what was sold in the State run stores. I was drinking vodka whan I was eight years old."

Napoleon wasn't surprised to hear that as he knew in France children often drank wine, but a hard liquor like vodka? Maybe it was because of those cold Russian winters? He tried to shrug it off.

The agents trekked in silence to the north side of the mountain and to their dismay the small satrap had been cleared out. Word must have spread that someone had been nosing around.

The mission was a bust, but before they returned to the UNCLE field office Illya decided to stop off to see Whiskey George one more time

Napoleon went to the local drug store to get aspirin, while Kuryakin took care of procuring some of George’s potato vodka...for medicinal purposes mind you.

That’s what he told his partner.

Comments

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I'm sure something like this might have happened once, somewhere in the Ozarks...