Dry gulch them hitchhikers in the hills of Alabama, pull a gun on them and ordered them to take a bottle of corn moonshine from the glove compartment of the truck.
"Drink it," I will order, wave the gun about a bit. Then watch as they each take a swallow from the bottle as they gasped, gulped, sobbed, blinked, wept, gagged, choked, shuddered, squirmed, and twitched.
"Hey! All right," Try said. "Now you take the gun and force me to take a drink."
