Sloe Gin was the only thing I could steal. The old Chinaman always watched us like a hawk, but I was able to slip a half-pint into my pocket. I’d never had Sloe Gin, but it was quickest to my hand.
Drank the whole thing at the dance, since my date said she didn’t want any.
I probably shouldn’t have driven, but Joan didn’t know how to drive yet, and made a big deal about not having a license.
I made it part way and had to pull over and run into the bushes.
No more Sloe Gin for me.