The wholesome article
Doing a short stint in some shabby Italian kitchen some years ago, I worked for a slew of entertaining people, such as the old Italian lady who had 6 fingers and could lift the back end of a ’98 dodge neon, the coked out office hermit chef, the loud mouth Italian American guido type and then there was the innocent dishwasher kid, the son of a priest in our local church.
Quite often we would sit behind the restaurant on milk crates and talk about drinking, drugs, our demented perversions, etc. although, my conversation would change quite abruptly whenever the priests son walked in, simply because I wouldn’t want to strip him of his innocence from my debauched tales of indecency and self abuse.
The boy was just edging on 16, he was tall, and getting a rich head of blonde surfer hair. he was an academic and an athlete, he was a veteran gymnast and built like a truck. He would often tell me about all the sports teams he would play on but he’d always gripe about never being able to dunk on a regulation net. We would chat about harry potter films and when he became comfortable with me, he would confide details he was quite shy about, like how he was still a virgin.
At this point, I knew how I could help this kid out. I ran off to one of the loudmouth waiters and asked for the number of his favourite hooker. I phoned and talked down her session to half an hour, only because she wasn’t willing to charge a 2 minute rate, even with a virgin kid.
I approached the boy and I told him I had arranged a meeting with a prostitute for him and he withdrew instantly. After assuring him that I would pay for her, make sure he was safe and I even picked out a really cool location for the two of them. He was hesitant, but he warmed up to the idea eventually.
A few days passed and finally it was time for my shy friend to meet his destiny. Seriously, her name was destiny. Anyway, I picked out the perfect spot for the rendezvous; an abandoned park at night, with a couple street lights lighting the ambiance just enough to identify if this hooker was male or female.
I instructed the woman to simply lift her skirt over her waist and bend over and grab onto the pole in front of her, while the boy stood twenty feet back, nervously shaking in anticipation and heat.
And as many people like to admit they would rather forget their first time, I’m sure this may not have been how the boy pictured it, but it was, his first time and his memory will last forever.
I made sure the paramour was set and in good position and I watched as the boy looked deep into the woman’s moist genitals, and freshly waxed anus, with his eyes on the prize. I saw vicious determination in that boy. Today in this nearly vacant elementary school park, this boy would leave an accomplished and proud man.
As if I were a referee, or a coach, I nodded to the girl who sleepily nodded back, and then I nodded to the boy, who started running, sprinting towards the bent over hooker. As his gallop approached her bent, anticipating body I threw out the perfect alley-oop pass and the boy ran up and leapt, planting one nike air onto the hookers waist and spine, smashing coccyx and herniating 5 vertebrae, vaulting himself into the night. He caught the pass mid-air, twirled his arm in a clockwise fashion and slammed the basketball in a textbook windmill slam dunk, on a regulation height net. The boy screamed in pure delight as he hung from the rim which gave loose under his weight and shattered the backing, raining down shards of skin irritating fiberglass, which resembled diamonds falling, glistening in the faded fluorescent incandescence, on the crippled prostitute who laid face down in the concrete.
We high fived in celebration, then threw a wad of mixed bills on the ground.
‘call… me an ambulance…’ the hooker sputtered out, bleeding from the mouth.
‘you’re an ambulance.’ The priests son said as we walked away, triumphant.
A stout based bottle with a very concave punt in the bottom. The neck is skinny and long, wrapped in gold foil. The bottle is topped with a plastic screw lid. The gold label itself on the face of the bottle is small, gold and written in elegant cursive. Nice presentation.
Dusty closet and dusty toffee. Old linen, some pickle and packed with rye spice. Nutmeg and egg nog are heavy in the nose with pastel candies, and some light char. Nice balance of wood.
Good depth on the palate, tons of rye impressions with baking spice and pickle, some cocoa, coffee, sweet and sour pastel candies. In the middle to finish there is a big presence of hot spice, which is cooled by sweet toffee. There is a bit of a rubbery taste peaking through, but is somewhat pleasing. Medium bodied, nice oak.
Crafted from the guys at black velvet in lethbridge Alberta, this has unfortunately been unlisted by the lcbo, which is a shame, considering this was roughly 50$ a bottle. This is considered black velvets above premium listing.
This is very much a rye forward canadian whisky with an impressive balance of oak. This is a medium bodied Canadian with an injection of spicy heat in the middle and finish. The words diamond filtered crest the label and there is a tiny booklet attached to the neck which also boasts diamond filtering, without a definition. There is little to no information available, although it is believed to refer to the micron size of the filters that the distillery uses, prior to bottling. It is rumored the diamond filter is a little larger than most commonly used.
This is a blended whisky aged for at least 21 years and is not to be missed. Danfields has also released a younger model aged for at least 10 years.