Ah, the courthouse in Hazzard County. Not much gets done here...and what does get done usually only has temporary effect.

Meet Krista Hogg. She's a faithful page; some would daresay TOO faithful. She seems to have an obsession with property taxes. But then, of course, she's female; if it makes money, she'll jerk off to it in bed at night.

Seems like the county never makes enough money. But then, it seems like the county never produces enough. That makes no sense. Hazzard is nothing but open land, where crops grow, and livestock grazes...

Where crops grow... Corn, perhaps?

That word makes Krista think about the Dukes. Even if it doesn't, she's heard about the Dukes' alleged moonshine business more often than she'd care to acknowledge... It's like a tumor she can't shed. And the tumor affects the whole Hogg family.

She shouldn't judge, though. The Hoggs have been moonshiners too...

Outside, a car with a Hemi engine speeds through town. It blows its horn; the horn blows the first notes of "Dixie."

Krista sighs. She's just about had it. If the Dukes are running a still, the Hazzard needs some of their profit; ALL of it would be better. The Dukes in chains would be even better yet...

This is Hogg Manor. White never goes out of style here...

Krista dresses for her next gig. She dresses like she's going on a hike...and like she's sneaking around. She is. She's going to catch the Dukes brewing shine, if she has to comb the woods.

With a staff, she sets out. Fireflies glow before her, as she does...