Prompt: Prohibition

I’m a self made man. Well, made by the Federal Government of the remaining United States. Prohibition doesn’t stop people drinking any more than illegalizing narcotics or tobacco has kept those demons at bay. Keeps a lot of law officers employed. And me. I’m in demand, wanted you might say, across four pacs and the seven free states – what used to be the United States of America.

When the Tea Party took control of Capitol Washington in 2016, and the PacWest States seceded before the year’s end, my brothers and me, we saw the writing on the wall. We knew things would start going down, so we got ready. Quietlike, while we could still move around without attracting attention. They didn’t enact the Registered Movement Act until late 2018, and we’d been storing up that whole time. Never quit – just had to get smarter, trickier about it.

Guns? Oh, guns were never the problem. Those Tea Partiers love their guns and the Second Amendment almost as much as they love their mothers and their mistresses. Oh no, we got the booze. Beer, wine, liquor, the good stuff, the rotgut. And even before Prohibition was a whisper, we were doing our own whispering, getting known in clubs and bars all across the country. Countries. Whatever.

They shut down the Anheuser-Busch and Yuengling breweries the same day in 2019 on some bullshit FDA inspection nonsense.

Now I live like a king, drive all over the old USofA in my deluxe, Playboy mansion-style RV. Remember those girly mags? I sure miss ‘em. I still dream about Miss December 2018. She was the last one before the Federal Purity Statutes shut them down too.

That’s okay, we got our girls, too. Quite a network, and we treat ‘em right--treat ‘em like people--so they’re loyal. We bring round doctors and nurses to check on ‘em and take care of ‘em, and we provide all their medicines and protection and whatnot, since they can’t get most of it through the federal health care system anymore. They mostly live in the four free states that legalized prostitution after Restructuring. Some of them travel around in RVs like mine--well, not as nice as mine--for weeks at a time, then come home for a month or two off, depending on how good business is on the road.

Business is right brisk, since the pacs all accepted the Purity Statutes. We sell almost as many condoms as beer, some places. Never ceases to amaze me how many young men will tug off their chastity rings before they go in to see a girl. We sell those too, $29.95, for the dopes who lose their rings. Our girls have leave to keep whatever is left in their rooms. They choose what, and who, goes in their rooms, too. Like I said, we treat ‘em with respect.

Which is why my eyebrows raised straight to the ceiling when my cell phone lit up with Honey Mama’s ringtone. Well, her ringtone always attracts attention, seeing it’s a very, shall we say, vocal demonstration of her services? But Honey Mama is a powerful independent woman, and although she welcomes us with respect whenever we roll into town, I would have put her way down the list of people I thought would ever give me a call. Right after the PM of PacWest, who’s a right nice guy all things considered, and loves his Scotch, but before the President of the Federal Government.

So anyway, Honey Mama’s moaning always piques my interest you might say. What she had to say was worse than an ice cold shower. Not even a quick hello to butter me up.

“They took my girls. They came in the middle of the day and took every one. I was out running supplies, or they’d have me too. They beat up Angus pretty bad, but he’ll live. Dammit, they took my girls!”

“We’ll be there in the morning,” I said and snapped my phone shut. Next I called each of my brothers and told them to meet me at Honey Mama’s the next morning. They’re smart boys and know I wouldn’t waste their time. They didn’t ask any questions. I got one word from each of them before they hung up. “Yes.”

Honey Mama’s was just south of Four Corners, in Teec Nos Pas Canyon. Arizona was the first Free State. They never were too comfortable with federal government control, anyway. Neither the most liberal nor most conservative state, they did appreciate a man’s privacy. And a woman could still own land. Honey Mama owned lots of land. Privacy and an airstrip. A woman after my own heart. Jason would have to fly his little Piper under the radar from Vermont, and the rest of us would have to drive overnight.

Dogs in house:	Houdini
January word count:	7430