Fiction | September 01, 2010

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Hey there. My name is Connie Aderholt, and I’m an alcoholic.  From way back.  About the time I changed from Conrad to Connie after a baseball player, that was when I got hooked on hooch. All kinds, canned brew to cinnamon schnapps, Mateus to single barrel scotch. Fifteen, just barely, brought to it in a shed behind the Starfest Café by Ellie Winston, who was stripped to heels, hose and a choker ribbon with a quart of Beam raised high in each hand.

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