The Land of the Sasquach

My search for the legendary Bigfoot first began when my previous expeditions to find the Loch Ness Monster and the Abominable Snowman had failed, chiefly due to the fact that I could not afford a plane ticket either to Scotland nor the Himalayas. After my disappointment at these failures had subsided, I decided to hit the local public library to search for a new creature to pursue. Unicorns and griffins didn’t seem to be a viable option. Neither did trolls or leprechauns. Everyone knows that unicorns are extinct, and I’m pretty sure that griffins are as well. Leprechauns were out. No money for a trip to Ireland either! Trolls lived under bridges, but only made their presence known to goats. At first I thought I could try wearing a goat costume and walking back and forth over the bridge down at the creek behind my trailer, but then I reconsidered. It could be dangerous. There were hunters in the area and I wasn’t sure if there was such a thing as “goat season”.

Then, like a bolt out of the blue, it struck me! This was North America! (I think it was anyway, I never learned how to read a compass). I lived smack in the heart of “Bigfoot Country”! Why hadn’t this occurred to me before? Was I an idiot? Everyday I had driven by numerous roadside vendors pedaling statues of the “sasquach” carved out of pine or redwood. Was I too busy admiring the clocks made of varnished burled walnut to take notice of the six foot tall, intricately-carved depictions of the illusive ape-like creature which riddled the main street of my hometown? And why hadn’t I previously noticed the large signs proclaiming the very county in which I resided to be “Bigfoot Country” and “The Land of the Sasquach” ? I guess I was too busy thinking about the Abominable Snowman to realize that I had its legendary cousin running through my own backyard! Come to think of it, I’d always wondered what the hell everyone was doing with all of those plaster casts of gigantic footprints on display in their shop windows. I guess I just couldn’t see the forest through the trees as they say. Tourists around these parts buy some pretty stupid shit. I guess I just figured that plaster footprints were just more stupid shit to sell ‘em. God, I must have had my head so far up my ass it was comin’ outta my mouth!

Well’ now I had myself a creature to find and capture and I didn’t even have to buy a plane ticket or a goat costume! I didn’t waste any time. The first thing I did was truck on down to the local hardware store and buy a shitload of plaster. Jesus, if these things were so stupid that they just stepped into any random hole filled with plaster how hard was it gonna be to catch one? I also bought a fishing net to snare my sasquach in. Now the big problem became bait. What the hell would those suckers eat? I read in my Bigfoot book that I got at the library that they were herbivores and probably ate roots and nuts and berries. I don’t know about roots, but trail mix had a buttload of nuts and berries in it. I didn’t have any trail mix though, but I figured breakfast cereal would be just a good. And it was good! I ate the whole goddamn box before I remembered why I took it out of the cupboard in the first place. Now I didn’t have any Bigfoot bait at all. Sometimes life seems to mock my efforts at acquiring fame and fortune and a hot, gold digger wife with enormous tits. I was not to be discouraged however. Bait was bait, and everybody knows worms are the best kind of bait around. More importantly, they were free and I’d spent the last of that month’s disability check on plaster, a fishing net and two cases of beer. Hell, fish ate worms. Birds ate worms. Cats and dogs got worms. People got tapeworms and ring worms (I know I did!). When you died worms ate your flesh. When I thought about it, I realized that life was just one big worm farm waiting to happen. What Bigfoot in his or her (assuming they had female Bigfoots) right mind would turn down a big bowl of nice juicy worms? Better yet, worms smothered in beer! Everything likes beer! I know I do! And so does my brother, Randy and his friends. Once, I saw this poster on a bathroom wall of this alien holding a beer. Apparently he and his other alien friends had landed on Earth because of the beer because the poster said “We’re only here for the beer”. Shit, if aliens liked beer and they were from outer space, a Bigfoot would love that shit! That poster also meant that if aliens were coming to Earth to get their beer then Earth must have the best beer on the planet!

Once my clever trap was set, and my big hole filled in with plaster, I laid in wait in a makeshift hut made of tree branches. Man, I must have drunk a lot of beer that first night. I awoke the next morning covered with frost. I was horrified to find myself half blind! The left side of my body was stiff and I couldn’t move a muscle. At first I feared that I’d suffered a stroke, but when my panic subsided and my wits returned, I realized that I’d passed out in my pool of wet plaster. Over the night the plaster had set, leaving me partially trapped inside a thick plaster casing. With my right hand I was able to take hold of a large rock and chip away at the trap, slowly but surely freeing the left side of my head. Replaying the hazy events of the previous evening I had to assume that I had wandered out of my hut to urinate and simply lost my footing. There I lay in a drunken stupor as the plaster hardened. After about four hours I was able to free the rest of my body with my trusty rock. It sure doesn’t pay to drink and hunt Bigfoot at the same time.

Turns out this lesson didn’t exactly sink in immediately, because the next night I was back into that blasted beer again. But like I said before, everything likes beer, and “everything” sure as hell includes me! That second night around 2:00 am a shaggy figure appeared in the tree line just beyond my back yard. I watched and waited, closing one eye to keep the shaggy creature in focus. The thing in the woods was tall and gangly, with wild, ragged hair that shot off in all directions like hairy turds. Hair sprouted from its face and hung in twisted, nappy curls around its chin. My nostrils were assaulted by a foul stench, something akin to human body odor masked in a sickly sweet, oily camouflage, obviously a weak olfactory disguise for poor hygiene habits. The smell was nearly unbearable, like a dirty jock strap filled with cinnamon. The full moon revealed a colorful pattern on the creature’s upper torso, a swirl of rainbow colors surrounded what appeared to be a primitive attempt to spell the word “fish”. This turd-haired troglodyte had spelled it “Phish”, but the message was clear. It was foraging in the woods for food. Was this primitive creature’s brain so tiny that it did not realize that the nearby creek was a better place to catch “Phish” than my backyard? I seized my flashlight and shined it in the stinky creature’s eyes. The beast threw up his arms and spoke.

“Hey, man it’s cool” it said. “Just out lookin’ for mushrooms, man” it continued.

I quickly seized a rock and heaved it at the creature’s head. It went down face first into my pool of plaster, where it lay still. Bubbles pooled around the beast’s head. Thinking quickly, I ran to the creature and seized a few of the turd-like tentacles sprouting from its head, pulling it free of the pool. It took in a deep breath and then coughed up a lung full of plaster. I jerked the smelly creature to his feet and demanded to know if he was some sort of strange relative of the Bigfoot creature. Some other missing link previously undiscovered by modern man. The creature was frightened and confused.

“Hey, man, it’s cool. I’m not sure what kind of trip you’re on, but I don’t mean any harm, bro” the creature pleaded. “I was just out lookin’ for magic mushrooms. I didn’t realize I was on your property, man” it stammered.

Magic mushrooms? Was this simple-minded creature possibly some sort of over-sized pixie or brownie who could harness the magic powers of the forest spirits?! When asked if he was a pixie the creature replied, “No, but Kim Deal spat on me once”. I wasn’t sure what this cryptic message had to do with anything so I continued my interrogation. Was he a brownie? With this question the creature seemed to relax.

“Oh, I get it. All tripped out on brownies. You gotta watch how many you eat, man. Too much THC can really wig your ass out worse than acid sometimes” he said.

I demanded to know more about the brownies. He was obviously privy to some sort of forest magic and was playing some sort of mind games to confuse me. I told him I would not be fooled by his pixie trickery.
“Okay, man. You want some more brownies? I got some in my backpack, but from the state you’re in I wouldn’t suggest it” the creature said in a slightly stern tone. He then took three magic squares from his back pack that had been carefully wrapped in tin foil and offered them to me in exchange for his release back into the forest. I asked him about the power of the magic mushrooms. He quickly pulled a large zip-lock baggie from his backpack and shoved it into my hands.
“Here, man. Go fuckin’ hog wild” he said, still quivering with fear. I inquired as to how I was to invoke the powers of the magic squares and mushrooms. “What, are you that fucked up? You eat ‘em, man” he answered. “Are we cool?” he asked, backing away from me slowly.
“Don’t I get a wish or something?” I asked.
“Ah, sure, man. Whatever you say”, he answered.
“I wish to find the illusive Sasquach” I commanded. To which he answered “Uh, sure, okay. You just eat those brownies and shrooms and you see all kinds of crazy shit, man”.

With that, he was off, charging back into the magic forest from which he came. I could hardly believe my good fortune. I hadn’t even thought of trying to capture a pixie or a brownie or whatever the smelly creature actually was. Now in my hands I held the key to locating the illusive sasquach! I quickly wolfed down the three magic squares. They were chocolaty with a strange, bitter under taste that I could only assume was the magic power within. Man, some magic powers tasted bad! Those damn magical mushrooms tasted like horseshit wrapped in a dog shit tortilla! Thank God I had beer to wash them down. I almost puked a few times, but I forced them down, not wanting to waste my gift from the magical pixie or brownie creature. About twenty minutes later those magical powers kicked in big time!

The forest beyond my trailer took on a strange otherworldly glow. The enchanted trees beckoned me forward into the twinkling cupcake mountains and swirling rainbow-hued vampire mind-control robot pudding meadow. The night sky glowed green as leprechauns dripped lemonade love. The faces on the tips of my shoes told me to venture into the woods, for there I would find the illusive sasquach. I followed the floating yellow baby made of butter and the singing purple cobra to the giant mushroom where the dancing skeleton lived. The dancing skeleton led me to the entrance to the cave of the sasquach, giggling and prancing foppishly as pink and blue rabbits flew from the crown of its red top hat and exploded in the swirling green hues of the night sky. The cave was deep within the wobblewood flapjack grove, far from the prying eyes of humankind. The dancing skeleton pointed a bony finger at the vast expanse of the cave’s entrance and then chuckled gleefully, walking into the sky and then disappearing behind a door cleverly disguised as Charlie Chaplin’s moustache.

Cautiously, I entered the cave. The moist, limestone walls dripped with writhing cascades of tiny, naked bodies. I made my way to a large chasm, illuminated by what appeared to be a gigantic, pulsating, red anus growing out of the ceiling of the cave. In the center of this breath-taking labyrinth of stalactites and stalagmites sat the very creature I so eagerly sought. On a throne fashioned of human skulls, flanked on either side by life-like wax figures of actor Burt Reynolds, the sasquach reclined, seemingly distracted, and yet expectant of my unannounced appearance. The creature’s appearance was not what I had anticipated. I had expected to lay eyes on the classic depiction of the beast; an ape-like troglodyte with broad, hulking shoulders and thick, muscular limbs covered with fine, black hair. Instead I beheld a man of average height, dressed in a colorful Spanish matador’s jacket, tiger skin print thong underwear and glitter-covered orange roller skates. His true facial features were hidden beneath a rubber Stan Laurel mask. The only actually giveaway to the creature’s true identity was a large adhesive name tag which read: “Hello, my name is Sasquach”.
“At last we finally meet” it said, it’s voice both dignified as well booming, sending a wave of echoing recourse throughout the chamber, as if I was hearing the voice of some omnipotent being beckoning me from the heavens above. I stood dumbfounded, mouth agape, awestruck in the creature’s presence. Bright bursts of colored light exploded around the creature.

“You would seek to expose me to the world for your own personal gain. You would deny me my freedom for the sake of some pathetic roadside attraction for your own meager personal gain”. Its tone was scolding and yet there was no threat in its voice. The creature’s head expanded to the size of a hot air balloon and floated about the cave.
“All of your life you have sought proof of the existence of so-called mythical beings and beasts” said the disembodied head. “Now you see that magic and myth are but part of the fabric of everyday life, my friend, only hidden below the surface. Hidden from those small-minded, sambo, Nazi, mind control, baby doll rapist, brain police, taco bender, Venus satellite, mind control, exorcism, ham sandwich, Keystone cop, harbingers of straight jacket, mind control death squads” the head continued, now spiraling slowly through the air. The sasquach told me of the futility of my quest and that my eyeballs danced with the soul of Sammy Davis Jr. inside the head of a scarecrow reflected in John Lennon’s glasses.

As the vast expanse of the entire universe spread out before me in a dazzling display of lights and colors, all of life’s mysteries seemed to become crystal clear in this one defining moment. I had been a fool to seek the sasquach and the griffin, the leprechaun and the troll. Some things were meant to remain mysterious and magical, not to be dissected by the cynical public eye. With this realization the entire universe seemed to implode, closing in on itself. My vision blurred to a fuzzy blue-toned fog and then everything went suddenly, blissfully black.

I awoke the next morning somewhere deep in the forest, naked and covered from head to toe with mud. The strange events of the previous evening danced in my head. In my foolishness I would have denied the sasquach his freedom, imprisoning him in captivity to be stared at like a sideshow freak. As I walked back to my trailer, cold and naked, I thought how stupid I had been. I didn’t want Bigfoot or abominable snowmen. What I was really after were sideshow freaks, human oddities that I could put on display to be gawked at by paying tourists. My mind reeled with possibilities for the traps I would set to snare them and the bait that I would use to lure them, and all of the cool shit I was gonna buy with all that money I was gonna make from my new roadside attraction.