Nobody Loves a Bigfoot Like a Bigfoot Babe (5 page)

EARLIER THAT SAME DAY, the bright moon reflected from two large eyes within the forest. The eyes stared at the strange yellow four-legged thing resting at Little Beaver picnic area. Large tufted ears twitched to the sound of happy voices emanating from the young pale ones sitting around the campfire drinking and having a good time.

From behind a nearby tree, something hairy watched the four pale ones. It was something of sufficient weight to cause the undergrowth to rustle and for twigs to crack beneath its heavy feet. Shiny, big, deep blue eyes, watched the fun-loving youngsters with an envious look. For the eyes were young too and wanted to join in. The hairy creature stepped from behind the tree.

Olaaa, the young female Bigfoot was small for a Bigfoot and when fully standing was no more than one and half strides high, but she was very strong, as displayed by her immense hands snapping a hefty branch as she wooed her soon-to-be play thing-the pretty blond pale one.

Her lustrous hair was a light fawn, but dappled with patches of dark reddish-brown, here and there. She had a pair of golden circles around her eyes, giving the appearance of spectacles. Her face was quite pretty in a Bigfoot way, with fine hairs barely covering her light, golden brown skin. Her cute little snout twitched with every scent it detected. Her suckle-bumps were just beginning to show through her luxuriant chest hair which covered her all the way down to her nether regions, where the hair hung in long damp tufts.

She moved slowly and as carefully as she could towards the sound of laughter. She was very mindful to keep well-hidden amongst the brush and thickets. From her vantage point behind another tree, she watched and listened.

Olaaa's chosen one sat by the fire enjoying his friends' antics, slurping what she hoped was happy juice. She watched the plump dark-haired female with rings on her face point a strange box at the others. At first, Olaaa was alarmed. She thought it was a fire stick, but the strange box seemed to attract them in some way.

The dark-haired male with the spotty face started to act in a very peculiar way, sending frightened signals to Olaaa's ears.

"Oooooh," he laughed. He started to remove his upper covering.

The female giggled, "That's my boy . . . take it all off."

Although the words were broken up, Olaaa could understand the gist of what was said, recognizing familiar words spoken by the pale ones. She truly wished she could speak to them. She grinned, showing her big yellow teeth as the pimply male stripped almost to his thruster, revealing a lean chest. She chortled as the male threw the body top into the fire.

The other pale ones egged him on by clapping and wolf-whistling.

Olaaa's big eyes widened with delight and arousal at the sight of the dark-haired male's naked and lean upper body. She licked her dark brown lips wantonly with her long, pink tongue.

"Wooo-wooo wooo-weee," she bleated quietly to herself.

Beneath her right big foot there was a twig of a tree.
Snap
went the twig beneath her clumsy big foot.

She looked down at her clumsy big foot and cursed quietly by snorting air nasally, "Ftftftft." The nasal snorting was a general term used by Bigfoot to describe something unpleasant from smells to feelings.

Olaaa was alarmed to see and hear sounds of distress coming from the pale ones. She thought she might have given herself away. She was desperate for them to stay and not run off.

The red-haired smaller female pointed in Olaaa's direction and spoke, "Did any of you hear that? Something's out there! Something's moving about over there."

Olaaa sensed amusement rather than terror from that pale one.

"It's just old Duane-o up to his usual tricks," the beautiful blond one said. He drank some happy juice.

Olaaa perked up at hearing Duane's name spoken by her plaything.

Olaaa's binocular vision allowed her to see the tiny pictures displayed on the strange box held by the plump female. Her chosen mate, the blond male pointed to the heavens in a scary way.

"I know . . . it's those aliens come to take us. It's my old man you want, not me," he shouted out, laughing.

Olaaa looked up to see nothing but the stars.

Olaaa frowned for a moment. Were these pale ones waiting for the bright lights to take them away? If so, they were in the right place.

Olaaa knew what she should do now, when the pale ones were close by who might get a glimpse of a Bigfoot. She knew she must leave quickly. Hide. But Olaaa sometimes didn't do as she was told to do by her elders. After all, she was still considered a baby by her tribe, but Olaaa was growing up fast and couldn't wait for what wondrous things nature had waiting for her.

She remained perfectly still. She wanted to stay and watch the teenagers. In fact, she wanted to join in the fun. She warned herself not to tread on anything that might give her presence away.

Olaaa's blond plaything took a long gulp of happy juice.

Olaaa licked her lips as her nostrils detected the distinct smell of happy juice. She ached all over to join in their fun, for Olaaa sensed that these pale ones were a lot like her.

The pubescent Bigfoot cocked her head as the dark-haired female started to shake the picture-box in her hand as if frightened.

The dark-haired male squealed in terror. "Oooooh, Bigfoot."

The red-haired female stared right at Olaaa with a terrified look-genuine fear.

Olaaa wondered if they could see her.

The pale ones looked expectantly into the pitch-black darkness of the forest.

Olaaa's chosen one playfully punched the red-haired female in the shoulder as he got up. He wobbled as if he'd had too much happy juice.

Olaaa's big blue eyes rounded as she looked at the delectably gorgeous, blond pale one. Her heart fluttered then raced wildly.

She watched him stagger off towards the edge of the clearing and disappear behind the tree out of sight of his friends. But Olaaa could still see him standing at the base of the tree.

With almost unbearable excitement, she stared at him unzipping his jeans to urinate. She saw the steady flow of his pee on the ground and against the tree. The smell of his manly essence and muskiness aroused her.

She swished her hips suggestively, cooing, "Woooo-woooo-woooo."

Behind the cover of the thickets, Olaaa placed each big foot to the ground with extreme care and walked towards her unsuspecting plaything. She stopped behind the leak tree and listened to him zip up his fly. Olaaa breathed heavily with excitement. She licked her lips.

An owl screeched, as if to alert Olaaa's pale one, but the plaything was a little too happy on the juice to heed the warning of the wise old owl. He belched.

The chosen one called out. Olaaa thought he was calling to her. Olaaa sighed on hearing the pretty pale one's voice. She sniffed the night air then sniffed her own pungent odor. She sniffed her very hairy, excessively damp armpits.

She snorted nasally with disgust. She smelled like a raccoon's behind. She needed a good dowsing in the river if she was going to attract her pretty boy.

"Woooooo-wooooooo," she called her plaintive mating call excitedly into the night.

The unfamiliar calling sound-which was so loud it seemed to be inches from his ear-which it actually was, suddenly warned the plaything. He reacted as if in danger. Before he could cry out, a big hairy hand, pink and calloused, came up to his face and covered his mouth, stifling his scream.

Olaaa was so excited she let out her mating call.

THE TEENAGERS STOPPED THEIR merry-making and listened. All eyes were focused on the spot at the edge of the clearing where Beau had gone to take a leak.

"Weeeeoooooeeeeeoooo."

"Shit, did you hear that?" Chad exclaimed. "What if it's those aliens who keep abducting Beau's old man … maybe they've come for Beau?" Chad looked up to the sky. "Beau says those aliens are up to something weird." Chad saw nothing unusual.

"It's just gotta be Bigfoot," Naomi whimpered. She grabbed hold of Chad's arm and shivered with fright. "It's come to have its way with us."

Chad pushed Naomi away, laughing, "Yeah, with you, not me." He chuckled, "I bet it's real hung . . . like down to its knees."

Naomi punched Chad in the arm, "That's so gross, you pig."

Debbie directed the camcorder to the spot where Beau had gone to take a leak. "It's only Beau pissing around as usual."

Naomi jumped to her feet and looked frantically into the dark woods. "Beau . . . you there?" she shouted. "Beau!"

OH, HE WAS THERE alright. It occurred to Olaaa that the pale ones were calling out for her plaything. She mouthed the word Boo! She connected this word to her chosen one. He fainted with pure terror as Olaaa swiftly lifted him before he collapsed and slung him over her shoulder, fireman-style.

A moment later, Boo threw up over Olaaa's back. A moment after that Boo passed out again.

Olaaa didn't mind him throwing up down her back. She was excited and eager to take him back to her lair to play with. But a voice inside her told her she was doing wrong. Alas, Olaaa was too young to take heed of her conscience, as all young Bigfoot are apt to do. She just knew she wanted Boo to be her special plaything.

With all the jostling Boo came around. All he could see was Olaaa's hairy rear end.

"Help me," Boo whispered in terror, somewhat croakily with a dry mouth as he was carried into the deep forest.

Boo's weight caused Olaaa to rip off a fart. The noxious fumes caused him to pass out once again.

* * *

IT WAS NOW DAWN. The campfire embers smoldered. Thin wisps of smoke swirled up into the cool morning air. Golden rays of sunshine filtered through the trees and the ground-hugging mist. A white-tailed deer munched on the thin grass at the edge of the clearing. It looked at the disheveled heap of humanity and continued to eat, unconcerned.

Beau's friends had collapsed in a drunken heap around the fire. Their cozy tents hadn't been used. Second by second, the forest became alive with birdsong and the awakening of its resident fauna.

One by one the teenagers started to stir. They were hungover and aching from sleeping on the damp grass. They stretched and breathed in the fresh morning smells of the pine forest surrounding them.

Debbie yawned widely, noticing that Beau had not returned.

She called out, "Beau, where are you?" She watched the deer skip away with a look of concern.

DEEP WITHIN THE FOREST, the shrill sounds of birds accompanied Olaaa on her trek back to her lair. She crashed effortlessly through damp and misty undergrowth with an unconscious Boo slung over her shoulder.

Olaaa merrily called out to her brethren, "Wooooo-eeeee-wooooooo-eeeee."

Several wooooo-weeeee-woooooos replied. Olaaa increased her speed through the thick undergrowth. She stopped suddenly. Something told her that her family would not approve of what she had done. They would say she had contaminated their secret hideaway deep in the forest where only one pale one had ever gone before.

BY MIDDAY, MOST BEAVERITES knew what had happened to Beau Flucker, thanks to Beau's friends who had spread the word quickly around town that he'd gone missing, yet again. His parents already knew the complete unabridged version before Sheriff Lou showed up on their doorstep.

Walt Flucker opened the door with a grimace and allowed the sheriff to enter the Flucker household. He was a huge bear of a man, in his early forties with salt and pepper, close-cropped hair. He had a ruddy complexion from spending a lot of time outdoors.

Sheriff Lou took a seat on the sofa with Beau's less-than-distraught mother, Rose, a petite woman in her mid-forties.

She was a sweet-natured woman, but it was well-known she wore the pants in the Flucker home. Her bullish husband, Walt, was putty in her hands.

Lou and Rose sipped coffee from delicate porcelain cups on saucers; all very gentile.

"He'll show up, and when he does, I'll give him a good telling off, Sheriff," Rose said. "He's a good boy at heart . . . just likes to get up to mischief, is all." Rose looked at Walt's dour face. "He takes after that one . . . monkey see, monkey do."

Lou wasn't surprised by Rose's reaction on hearing her son had gone missing. The poor woman must be fed up with his antics by now. Lou sipped her coffee.

"It's no laughing matter spending the town's taxes on a pointless search party."

Rose nodded her head in agreement and patted Lou's knee in consolation. "I know, my dear. I don't know what to say."

Walt stood by the fireplace with a permanent grimace on his ruddy face. Above the fireplace was a Sharps rifle, and above that monstrous gun was a stuffed head of a deer that had obviously been shot by Walt. The rest of the living room walls were dotted with Walt's hunting trophies strangely mixed with sweet paintings of flowers that Rose had painted herself.

Walt flexed his manly biceps protruding from his red-checked shirt with sleeves rolled up. His jeans had two inch turn ups, making him look like a perfect effigy of Paul Bunyan, except for the massive beer belly and the fact that Walt had never in his life chopped down a tree with an axe.

Like so many in town, Lou had often thought that Rose and Walt were ill-suited. Walt was a fervid hunter and a collector of antique guns, not to mention a fanatical Elvis Presley fan. Rose had a passion for the finer things in life, classical music, ballet, painting pretty flowers and landscape scenes. The Fluckers seemed to have very little in common except the conception of their son, but to those who knew them, Walt and Rose were as much in love as the day they were married.

"Wait till he gets home, I'll give him more than a good talking to this time," Walt said with real menace. "This is the millionth time he's pulled this prank."

Walt was also a fisherman, which explained his penchant for exaggeration, as proved by the smallest steelhead ever to be mounted and displayed for all to see next to the deer's head.

"It's all your fault he likes to pretend to be abducted," Rose accused, wagging her tiny finger at her husband.

Walt grunted his disapproval at being reprimanded by his wife in front of Sheriff Lou. He clenched his fists.

"The problem with the world today is that parents have got to be ever so nice to their kids. In my day my father wouldn't stand for half the crap that Beau has put us through," Walt stated with a glare.

Rose placed her coffee cup and saucer on a side table and jumped to her feet. She marched up and stood facing her husband. She started to prod him forcefully in his excessively hairy chest with her tiny finger.

Walt didn't raise a hand to stop his wife; he just grimaced and took it like a bowl of quivering jelly.

Everyone, including Sheriff Lou, knew he had never raised a hand to his wife and never would, but she had listened many times to Walt bragging at Abe's Bar and Grill how he wore the trousers in his home.

"Now, now mother, you know how I feel about you prodding your finger into my chest," Walt said with a nervous smile.

Rose continued to prod, exclaiming, "Don't you now-now-mother me, Walt Flucker, you useless good-for-nothing. Beau is only taking after you. How many times have you claimed to be abducted by Bigfoot?" She stood back a pace with hands on hips.

"Can't rightly say offhand . . . but I was," Walt replied indignantly. He pleaded to Lou with hand on heart. "I was genuinely abducted by Bigfoot, not to mention these tall, blond aliens from the planet Abba."

"Yeah, yeah . . . so you've said as often as I dared to listen." Lou sounded irritated.

"I know you don't believe me sheriff, but it's the God's honest truth . . . I was abducted by aliens. The females had long blond hair . . . very Swedish in appearance. They were slender, young and beautiful, with soft hands and supple bodies with perky breasts with upright nipples. And there was this one overweight male alien who looked exactly like Elvis, who told me he actually was Elvis, and that they had sent Elvis' clone back to earth so nobody would notice his abduction." Walt paused and looked thoughtful for a moment or two. "The females would do anything I wanted them to do, sex-wise." He started to grin at the lewd thoughts invading his mind. "Their sexual parts were right where they should have been, and like the saying goes, if the hat fits—wear it."

Rose punched him in the arm. "Jesus, Walt . . . is that all you can think about . . . S. E. X.?"

Walt gave a snigger. "Not all the time, Rose, darling, love bud of my life . . . sometimes, as you know, I ponder the fate of mankind and the consequences of global warming."

Lou had spent just about enough time as she dared with Beau's parents, realizing they were not taking his disappearance seriously. She handed her empty cup and saucer to Rose as she got up from the sofa.

"Well, the FBI has been contacted. If Beau hasn't turned up by tomorrow, they'll be sending two agents from the Sacramento Field Office to help us with our investigations."

"Shit," Walt said, mimicking awe. "The FBI are coming." He shook his head with dismay. "Whoever they'll send won't be able to find the whereabouts of a missing toilet roll even if it was shoved up their tight asses."

Lou didn't reply to Walt's crude remark. "I'll keep you both informed of my investigations."

Rose nodded her head politely, "Thank you, dear."

Walt shook his head and grimaced. "F-B-I," he slowly sounded the letters with a disgusted snarl on his lips. "Feeble-Brained Idiots. Shit, that's all we need."

It was no secret to Lou that Walt had a strong contempt for the FBI, mainly due to the Bureau's reluctance to believe he had been abducted by aliens. She hoped that there would be no reason for FBI agents to come to Big Beaver. That Beau would show up before they did.

"Talking of idiots, that reminds me—you had the DNA results back on the Phantom Bigfoot Bather Case yet?" Walt asked.

Oh yeah, she had the results back, thought Lou. And as expected the analysis of the hairs left by the Phantom Bigfoot—the third such incident in less than two months—could not be ascertained because, once again, they had been contaminated with bleach. As for the pungent odor, it was determined to be caused by various animal extracts, skunk urine and sulfur oxide for that extra lingering noxious smell. It was confirmed by all involved that the perp was a class "A" nut job.

Whoever was responsible for the practical joke-and she was pretty damned sure it had to be Duane-had cleverly manufactured each crime scene to prevent it from being properly analyzed. One thing though—and everyone in Sacramento was in agreement—it could not be a Bigfoot, because Bigfoot was a myth.

"Yeah, I've got the results of the DNA," Lou replied. "The same . . . as usual."

Walt looked disgusted. "I hope no one's going to blame me for contaminating the evidence this time. I merely help extract the evidence from the scene as requested by you, ASAP, with the utmost of care, I might add." Walt folded his muscular arms with pride in his plumber's job. "Not my fault I had to take a piss at the wrong moment."

"Like I said, as soon as I know something, you'll know." Lou nodded to the Fluckers.

Rose led Lou from the living room, down the hall to the front porch. "Please don't mind Walt, his bark is worse than his bite." Rose smiled sweetly, "And don't worry your pretty head about Beau, he's probably laughing right now."

Lou smiled at the poor woman, "Speak to you soon, Rose."