MULHOLLAND MOONSHINE
by John Palisano“You makin’ ’shine, Van? Is that what you’re sayin’?”
Van Owens stopped picking golden, ripe oranges long enough to adjust his position atop the ladder and squint down at his new friend. “Kirk, old boy, there’s a little more to it than that. It’s a real science—involves all kinds of fancy equipment and rare supplies and getting a formula just right. You wouldn’t want to find yourself with water on the brain instead of being nice and bent, now would you?”
Kirk hefted a basket of oranges, considering. “No, I s’pose not.”
Van peered at the distant hills surrounding the San Fernando Valley. “Now, what if I told you that there are certain types of trees growing hereabouts, at the higher elevations, trees whose fruit makes just about the finest moonshine
