"Hey Wildhorse, you g-got anymore of that f-firewater?"
"Naw Eagle-Eye it's all gone. I musta spilt it all out on the bluff last night under the half moon. I'll mix up some "Indian Kool-Aid" tho and we'll go shoot some prairie dogs, eh."
Eagle-Eye ponders the wisdom of this momentarily. The month before he consumed two bottles of rubbing alcohol in a few hours and almost died from the respiratory depression caused by isopropyl alcohol's strong effect on the Central Nervous System.
"That'll work Wildhorse. Mix mine real strong, eh."