The chippawa murder mystery
The chippawa murder mystery is not so much a mystery as it is more of an unreported crime. We know some details and filled in the rest with sketchy babblings from a person who was very stoned on high grade northern lights #5. The names mentioned in this story have been changed to protect the people involved.
One night, we walked out of our restaurant and loaded up into a sketchy bomber van with poor gas mileage and failing brakes and drove to my friend’s house. We unloaded into the kitchen and pulled out a quarter pound of pot and started dividing it into separate bags that everybody had invested in. a small tv in the corner played the highlights to the nights baseball game. Although we were immersed in a conversation recapping the nights events(cut fingers, burned hands, good looking servers, etc), we all stopped talking and collectively turned to see our friends brother, whom we nicknamed ‘creepy’ screech his car into the driveway. He jumped out of the driver’s side to scurry to the backseat and quickly drag a half conscious girl out of the sedan and into the house.
-(This is all very expected for us whenever creepy came about. We nicknamed him creepy after years of enduring odd fiascos and downright creepy behavior. He was known for his skinny, calcium deficient, bonerack frame or wearing the same, small, unwashed t-shirt for weeks on end, sometimes months. He had unusually long arms, unwashed hands and curled up fingers, with untrimmed fingernails, which resembled claws or talons. His nose is long, thin and pointed, like a vulture’s beak. His cheeks gaunt, his eyes like steel. Creepy would be seen picking meat off discarded chicken bones found in the garbage or foaming at the mouth while sitting motionless, quietly watching a hockey game, even though he was never diagnosed as lycanthropic or rabid. We would consider him quite dangerous because of his likeliness to be sly, clever, plotting, self-serving and dodgy. Quite often he was reported to be seen sleeping next to a tall glass filled with piss. I’m not sure if it were flushin piss or chuggin piss, or if it were even his own piss, but he usually kept a tall glass of it handy. All in all, nothing really shocked us anymore whenever creepy would show his face.
In fact, creepy was more or less manufactured into the eerie, crooked, bent, raven-like creature he is today; growing up, we blew cigarette puffs or bong hits in his face or attempted multiple toilet drownings to see how far a 12 year old could go without oxygen and not become an invalid or wheelchair dependent. In our teenage years, we practiced a wide assortment of professional wrestling maneuvers on creepy, which includes one fateful night when my buddy executed a triple-h style pedigree piledriver on him. you see, a pedigree is when you tuck a person’s head, face-down in between your knees and drop, effectively crushing a person’s face. When this move is done on tv, it’s done by professionals, so nobody is getting too hurt, but when you have an intoxicated friend perform this move on a pre-pubescent boy with soft bones like creepy, bad things happen.
Now, I myself have endured camel clutches, noogies or even the dreaded, inescapable cross-face chickenwing. To say I grew up able to take a beating and keep asking for more is an understatement. Hell, one time I once suffered a ddt off a three stair ledge and to a lot of surprised looks, I stood up to backhand that individual cross-eyed and then I grabbed his thumb and bent it until it snapped. You do not fuck with chippawa kids. Anyway, my buddy grabbed creepy and tucked his head, face-down in between his legs, secured creepys arms by bending them back so far his elbows touched and he dropped to his knees executing a textbook pedigree. Well, creepy just laid there, unconscious for a few minutes while we all argued over if he was dead or not. When we flipped creepy over, we discovered he had rug burn on the tip of his nose. Needless to say, we weren’t allowed to wrestle with creepy until his concussion cleared up.
In short, we created creepy. He could have grown up to be a well respected citizen, but when you push a developing brain too far through constant physical abuse, mental torment, a curious amount of urine ingestion and oxygen deprivation, we get a kid like creepy. So, suck on that.)-
Creepy half escorted, half man-handled this girl through the kitchen, into the adjacent living room and he demanded she stay on the couch. Creepy walked in the kitchen to say hello to us before he turned to run upstairs to collect a few things from his bedroom and drink the last of the peepee in his tumbler. A moment later I overheard some rumbling and awkward stammered shifting of feet, as I turned around to see the girl walk into the kitchen and sloppily lean on the archway. Her hair hung over some of her face, one knee was mud stained. she looked disheveled. We all turned to stare at this crazed looking woman. Aside from the sports casters rhyming off latino baseball players names and numbers of runs batted in, the room went silent.
She spoke: ‘im not drunk!’ she insisted as the girl was wobbling on her feet. She looked drunk and this was not really a time when any of us were openly experimenting with anything other than pot or booze, so we all assumed she was downplaying her intoxication. We heard hammering feet rush back downstairs as creepy walked in to see the girl upright and explaining herself to us, although not one of us asked her anything.
I paid very close attention to every detail.
Creepy took the girl by the hand and walked her back into the living room and told her to ‘shut up and go to sleep!’ I walked in to see creepy holding a pillow over her face.
‘umm, hey man,’ I said. ‘how’s your hammer, bud? You, uhh, gonna suffocate that girl?’ creepy lifted the pillow and slid it under her neck, seeming very hospitable and nurturing.
‘me? Noooo, just uh, making sure she’s comfortable… drunk chicks, eh? Ha ha…’ creepy seemed uneasy that I saw them in this condition.
The girl shot up and shouted. ‘we KILLED her, danny.’(This is all very strange because creepy’s actual name is not danny. He used an alias perhaps? )
‘shut UP!’ creepy snapped through clenched teeth as the girl laid down, sobbing. As I stood, staring at this debauched spectacle, creepy grabbed my bicep and forced me back into the kitchen, where he sat down and looked over the frosty nuggets we were placing into plastic bags. He explained to us that he was down at the gorge beside the Niagara rapids, having a fire and drinks with a couple girls, but the one wanted to leave, so they all packed up and headed home. The one girl wanted to stay at creepy’s house for some casual drunk sex, he explained.
Crying in the living room: ‘we killed her, danny…’ the girl was weeping.
It was this point when creepy walked into the living room and wrestled the girl over his shoulder and walked her upstairs. My eyes shot to my Filipino buddy, walter. when creepy was out of site, I grabbed walter by the arm and started babbling like a mad man.
‘walter!’ I shouted. ‘creepy fuckin killed a chick down by the gorge and threw her in the fuckin Niagara river!’ walter chuckled and puffed on a cigarette as he suspected this was one of my batshit drug induced ramblings. ‘serious walt. This is what happened.’ Walter leaned in to listen to me. I didn’t notice at the time, but the rest of the table was listening to my theory too.
Here’s my theory: creepy goes to the bar with short mort, a buddy of ours, who’s known to be good with the ladies. They pick up a couple girls and invite them for beers and a fire in the gorge, which the girls are happy to go, because the bar is quiet tonight and short mort is a bit of a charmer. The girls seem interested because creepy hasn’t started talking about his toenail and eye crusty collection yet. The one girl is newly single since a bitter break up and wants some revenge sex to use as a weapon when her and her estranged boyfriend inevitably re-unite in the throes of a drunk hook-up. the other girl is a free spirit who is attracted to short mort, but after drinking a bottle of fireball, she might settle for creepy.
After a few beers, short mort receives a phone call stating that his step brother has been in a minor car accident and he has to rush to leave, which leaves us with creepy and the two girls. intoxicated and frustrated the newly single girl wants to leave, to creepys dismay. He sweet talks her into staying for another beer and mentions something about a drunk threesome, which disgusts her. She gets up to leave, slips drunkenly on a slick rock and falls, crashing on the ground. Upset, the free spirit runs to aid her and creepy sees the fallen girl has broken her leg and he will have to take her to the hospital, which will ruin his night. Instead, creepy asks the free spirit to help him pick her up. she rushes to pick her friend up off the ground, when creepy comes from behind and shoves both girls. The free spirit lets go of the hobbled girl and watches her fall off the shore and into the Niagara rapids and disappears under the water. Tears in her eyes she turns to see creepy. Creepy grabs her by the face and rams a dog tranquilizer down her throat, which doesn’t knock her out, because he underestimates the dosage, so it doesn’t knock her out, it just turns her into a whiney, drunk looking accessory to murder. Distraught, creepy loads up the girl and drives her to his parents’ home in chippawa and runs into his brother and his friends smoking pot in the kitchen, watching baseball highlights.
‘that’s what happened walter!!’ I exclaim smashing my fist on the table. ‘he killed a girl and drugged the other one!’
‘why don’t you call the cops?’ walter asks, chuckling and ashing a cigarette.
I give walter my disappointed half frown. ‘im… too high.’ I sigh. ‘the pigs will arrest me for intoxication.’
‘are you so high that you just made that story up and that’s just a really drunk slutty chick?’
And so we discover the mystery behind how creepy managed to pack so much penis into one girl. We also discover how one doctor managed to pack so much flavor into a ten year old whisky.
a somewhat stubby, chubby cylinder like bottle reminiscent of the danfields 21 style. The label is cool, and states what i like to see; a huge name, an age statement and the finishing barrels. The knot, is a miller’s knot, mr. dykstra.
Egg nog and vanilla custard are outstanding. Dark fruit, cloying red wine notes and some acetone. Menthol pokes through, along with fresh cut wood. Bright nose, lacking any real bass notes.
Vanilla fudge, egg nog and sweet/spicy red wine barrels. Pastel candies, burnt rubber and a touch of fresh mint in the finish. Red wine holds down the dank notes with some brown baking spice. The finish is full of oak and a dusting of black pepper. This is a very complex palate, difficult to coax out individual flavours, but the focus us: vanilla, spice, sweet, port, fruit. Pleasant, creamy texture.
Very good. Buy.
Pike creek is named after its resting place, where it is aged in first fill bourbon barrels, then finished in port barrels.
The warehouse in pike creek has no electricity, therefore no heat. During the extreme climates of a Canadian year, the barrels become very hot during the summer and since there is no heat in the warehouse, the barrels become very cold in the winter which reaches lows of -40f.
Pike creek is a ten year old corn whisky, distilled in a column still. The resulting spirit is not so full of corn flavor, but lets the barrels take the reigns and imply some vanilla and fruity notes.