The Gig, Monday

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Bender propped his mash-stuffed cask out in the sunshine. He gave it a self-satisfied tap, and it gurgled quietly, giving a slow burp. Mmmm, week long fermented

"Get out of here," Bender fended off a curious horse with a broom. "Brew your own, you greedy grass guzzler!"

Sure he'd secured his still, Bender found a shady spot to slouch back and work in.