Stefani-Lady Revinuior

 Stefani was a lady Revinuior. She didn’t mind you making and selling moonshine, so long as the IRS got its take, and she got to drink for free. Lately, the g-men and t-men where after more than just pappy's White Lightning, they were after Marijuana. Stef, as she liked to be called, had no problem with the growing or selling of weed, so long as the IRS got its take, and she got to toke for free. See, she’d just let you call your moonshine holy water, and your weed tobacco, and turn a wasted eye to it in exchange for letting her get wasted. Her most recent audit had been the Pettimore farm in East Tennessee. She’d got good and stoned in DC before grabbing an uber to a dispensary just outside of Dulles. There she purchased and smoked a final joint before boarding hopping a first class flight from Dulles to Knoxville. She couldn’t smoke on the plane, but she sure could get drunk on a plane, even if it was only a short 1 hour 40 min flight. Then she staggered off the plane and to her hotel for the night. 

Unfortunately, she had to rent a car the next morning in order to drive out to the Pedimore Farm, so she only had two bloody mary’s with her breakfast; there were some laws she just couldn’t bend, and drunk driving was one, she was buzzed, but not drunk. Then she headed out on her 3 hour drive to the Pettimore farm. 

It was a hot Summer's day, and about 45 minutes into her 2.5 hour drive, the AC conked out in her car. In no mood to turn back, she rolled the windows down, and undid a few buttons on her field outfit. The road got very remote the last half hour, and so she pulled over and pulled her flask from her bag. Then as she drove she sipped from it. 

By the time she reached the Petimore farm, she was more than buzzed, she’d most likely flunk a sobriety test, but she hid it well enough, and there was no one nowhere to be seen. She carefully parked her car in front of the old farm house. She got out of the car with a slight stumble, and then made her way to the door. It was closed; no one answered when she knocked. She checked around back and in the barn and determined that no one appeared to be home. However the AC was running, and tired of the heat, she decided to check inside. Sure enough, the door was unlocked. So Stef let herself in. A quick search showed no one was home. It also turned up a bottle of moonshine and a pack of rolled marijuan joints. Stef helped herself to a glass of moonshine, and lit up a joint. As she smoked, she unbuttoned her white dress shirt. When Johnette Lee Pettimore returned home a couple of hours later, this is how she found the lady revinuior.

Absolutely wasted, higher than a kite and drunker than a skunk. Johnette was none too sober herself, she was leaning on her topless and completely wasted friend Lainey Wilson.

Johnettes day had started at sunrise. It was expected that she would follow in her daddy’s footsteps, same as his dad and his dad before. Maybe not to the running of moonshine and Marajuana, but at least join the military and then return to the farm. She’d done that, joining the airforce on her 18th birthday in 2011. 4 years later in 2015 she got out, and tried her hand at the state college, graduating in Ag in 2019 on the GI bill. The farm did well enough, but then Covid hit in 2020. Her dad would pass away, and her mom had died giving birth to her. That left her alone. As gas prices climbed into 2021, she decided to resurrect the family moonshine and Marijuana business from just home consumption, to selling illegally. She lit a joint in the kitchen, and then had a quick breakfast of a glass of white lightning and ate a pickle in just her panites over the stove.

After she put the pickle jar away, she took her joint and smoked in her room as she dressed for the day-tan henley tank top, blue skirt and straw brown flat sandals. Aside from quickly feeding the cows and chickens, today was a market day. She finished her joint and stubbed it out on the fence post as she fed the cows. Once she’d tended to the animals, she just had to load her illegal merchandise in her car and go. 

Her car was an odd one, a ZAZ Zaporozhets 965, cause it was the only classic car she could find at the masons lodge sale-probably some Russian Olizark forced to sell off due to the war in Ukraine. She didn’t care, it ran, and her family had found over the years old cars tended to draw more attention, but not to the goods they might carry. As she loaded the car, she lit and smoked another joint. She also sampled some of the moonshine. By the time she had it all loaded, she was definitely loaded herself. This was nothing new to her, and given the remote location of the farm, driving slightly over the limit was expected. As Stef was having breakfast, Johnette was in Virginia selling her weed to a dispensary there, and smoking her third joint. Then it was down to Knoxville to sell her moonshine to a bar. She left Knoxville about a half hour behind Stef. Unlike Stef, Johnette sipped white lightning as she drove in her unairconditioned car. She was about 15 minutes from home when the car sputtered and died. In the sweltering afternoon heat, Johnette took an old newspaper from the backseat of the car and fashioned a hat before she stepped out. As she got out, she staggered slightly, and then made her way to the back of the car and opened the hood. The tipsy Johnette took the crank and tried to turn over the engine-her body glistening with sweat. 

The engine was seized solid. Johnette knew it was using a lot of oil, so she checked it. The dipstick was still black to the full mark. So, apparently, the old engine had given up. She took a bottle of concealed moonshine from beside the engine and sat in the shade of the car on the ground and drank a long toast to the loss of the engine. 

When the moonshine was gone, Johnette rested for a bit, and then stood drunkenly, swaying like the corn around her would if a wind was blowing. However, no wind blew today. She replaced the empty bottle beside the engine, and then sat on the bumper. She unbuttoned her skirt and used her shirt to wipe the sweat from her face, exposing her firm, round boobs to the warm, humid east Tennessee air.She looked around, and could see a storm was coming in over the horizon, so she staggered round to the passenger seat, using the car for support. She was in luck, she had cell service. So she called her best friend Lainey Wilson. Unfortunately, she just got her voicemail, so she left a message, “Heyyyy Lainey, iss me, John Lee.  I've broken down on Copper hed Road, 'bout 15 minates frum home.  Wenn yoo ged thiss, call orr cum ged me.  Ssangs, John Lee.” Then she put her phone away and sat, enjoying her buzz and drunkenness.

Over on the Wilson farm, Lainey had just finished a quick liquid lunch of moonshine and soup. Mostly moonshine. And a joint. Like Johnette, Lainey lived alone. She was making a go as an honest farmer, running a dairy farm. The moonshine she got from Johnette, and the marajuana, she grew herself, just for her-and sometimes her friends, but she didn’t sell it. 

The tipsy Lainey had just staggered back to the tractor when it both started to rain and her phone started to ring, playing copperhead road.

However, she made no effort to answer it, instead enjoying the feel of  cool rain on her clothes. As the rain continued, she lit a joint. She took a pull, leaned her head back and closed her eyes and then exhaled.

As the rain intensified, she staggered over to the tractor's exhaust. Luckily between being off and the rain it had cooled off by the time she used it to keep herself from falling as she exhaled the next toke, enjoying the sensation of smoke exiting her mouth at the same time rain drops entered.

As the rain continued, she smoked her joint, enjoying the rain and her growing buzz. When the joint was gone, she stubbed it out on the exhaust pipe. Still enjoying the rain, she staggered forward and danced in it.

Nealy as quick as it rolled in, the rain rolled out leaving only a cool breeze blowing over the stoned and tipsy Lainey.

The rain shower was over, and she knew it was time to get back to work. She slowly, and with some difficulty, removed her shirt. It seemed in her intoxication, the straps of her work coveralls got in her way. Eventually, she succeeded in getting her shirt off, and proceeded to ring it out. 

The cool post rain air felt wonderfill on her firm mellons. The stoned and tipsy woman started to stagger back to the house to get some dry clothes, when she finally remembered her phone, it had been playing copperhead road, that ment it was John Lee, so reached her hands up one more time in ecstasy and sang, “Welll, herr name's John Lee Peddimore same azz herr daddy ann his daddy before. Copperhed road.”

Then she staggered back to the tractor and got her phone from the tool box. Before she listened to it, she took the bottle of moonshine form beside it and had a nice long drink, “Mighdy, mighdy pleasin', john lees corn squeezin, (whew, white lightning).” As she listened to John Lee's message, she lit yet another joint. She took one more swig of white lightning, and then said aloud to herself, “I’d benner gow helb john lee.  I'm preee zzzrunk ann ssstohned, bud ssill ok ta dribe the tractor.  Im ussualy far more pplowed wenn im plowin' onna innernational harvesser.” She sang. And it was true. No longer realizing she was topless, she climbed up on the tractor and fired it up, smoking as she went. 

Out on the road, Lainey eventually realized she was topless, and put hee shirt back on. She nearly took out her mailbox in the drunken maneuver. Then she decided to call John Lee. It went to voicemail, which was probably just as well, as the drunk and high John Lee wouldn’t have been able to hear her drunk and high freind over the roar of the tractor, though Lainey left the message singing and slurring, “Yoo havve fine oud whoo yer frienns arr. 

 im somebody's gonna drob everythin'

run oud ann crank upp my tractor

hit the gas ged therre fazz azz i c'n. 

 never stopp t' thing 'what's in it fer me?' orr 'it's way too far. '

ill juzz show on upp wiss my big old heard ann boobs

yoo fine oud whoo yer frienns arr

i'm a li'l ssstohned ann zzzrunk, bud im on my way.”

Meanwhile, the rain storm had missed John Lee. She had sobered some over the last hour, and was now more sober than Stef, the revinuior drinking and smoking the afternoon away unbeknownst to John Lee in Jon Lee's house. That said, she was pretty stoned and too slow to answer Laineys call. She listened to the message, and then smiled. She just sat in the car, her long legs resting on the open door, an impressive sight that brought Lainey to a quick stop. 

Lainey none too gracefully turned the tractor around, as John Lee fumbled to put her sandals back on. Lainey was slightly more drunk than high, and John Lee slightly more high than drunk. Both were slightly wasted. But that was normal for these country girls. As Lainey backed the tractor up, John Lee took the chains and attached them to the back of the tractor. Fortunately, without causing damage, they were able to use the rear cultivator to lift and pick the front of the car up. Lainey retrieved a jar of white lighting from the tractor, as John Lee lit them a joint. 

As John Lee approached the tractor, swaying and staggering, Lainey yell-sang-slurred over the tractor to her friend, “Ann i c'n taze yoo furra ride on my big green tractor

wee c'n gow slow orr mayke it gow fasser

down through the woods ann oud t' the passure

long azz i'm wiss yoo, it really doan madder

climb upp in my lap ann dribe few wanna

girl, y'know yoo got me t' hold onno

wee c'n gow t' town, bud baby, few'd razzer

i'll taze yoo furra ride on my big green tractor”

John Lee answered her with a kiss, and they sat off, drinking, smoking and making out.

Somehow the two reached John Lee's house fairley. By now, Lainey was very plowed, and John Lee was not much more sober. Lainey was again topless, and John Lee's boobs were pulled out of her shirt. With a lot of hugging, and kissing, the two intoxicated farm girls climbed off the tractor and staggered. Both failed to notice the strange car parked crookedly in front of the house.

However, both would notice the disheveled, high, and drunk woman sitting in the living room smoking weed.

John Lee spoke first, “Whoo arr yoo? whad arr yoo doin' in my house?” As she and Lainey closed the door.

 It took a moment for Stef to answer, “im stefani, yoo c'n call me stef.  Im a revenoer wizza irs.  It wuz hod.” She was suppressed to see two beautiful, wasted women before her. This was new territory for her, but she knew it would work for her. “Whish won uhf yoo is johnedde lee peddimore?” she asked, and tried to point at them.

John Lee considered, and decided to ask first, “Arr yoo zzzrunk? ann high?” 

Meanwhile, Steph had taken an toke of the joint. She held it in and then let it out with a cloud of smoke.

“Yes.  S'pply me wiss plenny uhf weed ann moonshine, ann ill clear yoo wizza g-men, t-men, ann revinuior too.” Steph slurred. 

John Lee looked at the lady revinuior, sexy drunk, and stoned, drunker than a skunk, and higher than a kite, and replied “my name's johnny ann it might be a sin buh'll taze yer deal, stef” Stef closed her eyes, and enjoyed the intoxication of booze, weed, and getting another supply of it for herself.

In a surprise moment of clarity, Lainey slurred out, “Less havva pardy!”

And the three drunk and high women did just that, drinking, smoking and playing with each other until they all passed out nude.