Psycho billys apple moonshine
Adventures of bayou billy
One drunk night, my childhood buddy psycho billy dropped off a baby food jar full of clear liquid and told me to ‘drink up’.
‘is it strychnine?’ was my first question. Of course, he informed me that it was his apple moonshine, crafted from the fruits of his labor.
Anybody receiving a bottle of homemade moonshine might feel pleased in knowing that a friend was thinking about them and enjoy fulfillment as they knew that person was kind enough to offer them a gift. On the other hand though, your friends name probably isn’t psycho billy.
I grew up with psycho billy. He’s good shit. Although I could fill the next week talking about our adventures lighting stuff of grand scale on fire as we grew up, id rather only incriminate psycho bill. Bill grew up in my home town of chippawa. He came to my school in grade four and he’s been a good friend ever since. If you grew up in chippawa, you surely know him as well. If you haven’t had the satisfaction of knowing such a marvel of a person, let me catch you up on him.
Psycho bills favorite number is 736, his favorite ice cream is blood and psycho bills favorite sport is hostage taking. Psycho bill has two reactions to just about everything: fury or orgasm. Bill prefers to carry a compound bow wherever he goes, because ‘cops can hear guns’ and sometimes you can find bill on his farm firing homemade arrows at the sun(he’s accidentally killed two of the neighbor’s dogs). One time I asked psycho bill for a cigarette and he reached in his pocket and handed me a dull scalpel.
Although bill has a lovely house right here in chippawa which backs on to a golf course, and is a stones throw from the Niagara river, he prefers to live on a plot of land with a farm, out in the boonies, where he spends his time as a schizophrenic recluse. This would be all fine and good if he wasn’t armed with the charisma and charming looks of ted bundy, which he employs before inviting people out to his farm for a beer. I entirely recommend taking him up on the beer if you ever want to discover what its like to be an axe murder victim.
When bill handed me the jar of clear liquid, I told him I’d be more than happy to review it for him. What it’s actually crafted from, or its alcohol limit, or if it will make me go blind are just factors that I have neglected entirely.
Clear baby food jar. Bill’s kid is in her teens now, which makes me wonder why he has baby food jars.
This smells thick. Almonds, fatty oils, a smidge of cocoa. some flower blossoms a touch of fresh grass. this smells more of an unaged grappa.
Wow! Packed with alcohol, this tastes fresh off the still, without dilution. Apples, chocolate, ground almonds and hazlenuts. This has a fiery kick and a smooth finish that putters out with lingering raisins and dehydrated apples. Fairly sweet.
Given the legalities of illicit stills, I cannot legally recommend you seek this out or even try this at home, but if you have come across somebodys home creation, a taste could be rewarding, in the experience itself.