Moonshiners Making White Lightning Whiskey Liquor Tote Bag

Squatted low in their ramshackle Kentucky hideout, Clem, Jebediah, and Mabel, a scruffy mutt with a perpetually hopeful tail wag, huddled around a sputtering copper contraption. Clem, the wiry one with a nervous twitch, kept poking at the fire beneath the pot, muttering about the revenue men. Jebediah, all barrel chest and booming voice, thumped a hand on the rickety table. "Now you listen here, Clem, that dog ain't gonna alert no one cept maybe for a stray possum. We'll have this white lighting brewed and bottled by sunrise, then we're hightailing it out of here with enough coin to buy the whole county a square dance." Mabel whined, nudging Jebediah's hand with her wet nose, clearly hoping for a first taste of their illicit creation.