One time me and Chubby went hunting rabbits with a boat. We took a wrong turn and ran out of gas. We paddled to someone’s cabin. It was unlocked and we went in to lie down. There was a real kinda sweet smell coming from the bottom cupboard. I opened it and there was a five gallon plastic pail with a plastic bag over it. I pulled off the bag and inside the pail was some kind of white colored liquid with raisins and prunes floating on top. And it looked like it was boiling. I showed Chubby and he got really excited. He said it was home brew.
I always heard about home brew when I was growing up but I never saw it. I wanted to try it so I dipped a cup in and took a sip. It tasted like yeast and was warm. I didn’t see why people would drink it. But Chubby on the other hand, grew up mixing a brew pot for his granny. He took one sip and said “it’s ready.” He found a big blue enamal cup and dipped it in and took a good swig. I made some tea.
As I was drinking my tea and trying figure out how to use the bush radio, Chubby who’s usually pretty quiet and easy to boss around, starting talking back to me. I told him to make soup and he told me to “go to hell.” “What” I asked. “You heard me.” I looked at the brewpot and could see it was down about two inches. Like a highwater mark. And there was a ring of flakey stuff around his mouth. Chubby’s usually a pretty smiley guy but man he has a nasty look on his face.
I finally got the radio going and tried calling. “Anyone hear me?” Someone answered and I got excited. I was telling them our story about getting lost when Chubby ripped the microphone from my hands. “Hey!” I yelled at him. “What the hell you do that for?”
“I’m gonna pound you up” he said. “What?” “I’m gonna pound you up” he replied. I was getting tired of him so I told him to sleep it off.
Chubby is pretty clumsy when he’s sober, never mind drunk on home brew. He tried to throw a punch at me but I stepped aside and he fell into the wood box. They don’t call him Chubby for nothing. You ever try lift up somebody who’s drunk? They call it “dead weight” for a reason. I finally got him to sit in his chair.
I got back on the radio and told who ever was on the other end my story. All that time Chubby was talking about that donkey we shot. Blaming me. Then accusing me of trying to sell him off and collect the reward. I had enough so I was going to throw that brew pot out. But Chubby had his big cup in there and was downing it like water. I told him “Enough now.” I never heard Chubby swear in my life but he was using that “F” word like it was cheap. I tried to grab his cup but he got really strong. He was trying take another drink and I was twisting his wrist. He got one good gulp in before I took the mug away. Then he started crying.
I don’t usually do to good around even kids that are crying. But Chubby? He starting going on and on about what I did to him in grade six. Then he started talking about that time in grade nine what’s his name stole his first girl friend. And blaming me for it cause that guy was my cousin. He just kept finding reasons to cry. But I had enough when he started talking about treaties. He finally passed out. I got thru to the RCMP and they picked us up the next day. But I got charged for the homebrew cause I made the call. I still have over twenty hours to do on my community service. I might go hunt rabbits for elders. But only if Chubby comes with me.