by Simon Okill
3
CONCEALED BY THE QUIVERING BUSH squatted Chief Mocking Bird. The 30-year-old bachelor was better known to his friends—and some not so close to him—as MB. His shimmering, raven-black hair was tied back in a ponytail, giving him the desired appearance of a local Native American. There were some who said he was good-looking, and he would have to agree.
He was perfectly concealed in the undergrowth covertly watching the sheriff. His lean face was camouflaged with streaks of mud and dark green facial paint. He wore his usual camouflage fatigues that gave the desired effect of the local flora. MB was a wannabe member of the BFRO—Bigfoot Field Research Organization. He wished that one day he'd become a fully-fledged member, but after his last attempt they declared him a raving lunatic.
MB aimed his directional microphone at Sheriff Lou and listened intently. So far all he had was a boring conversation between the sheriff and Noreen over those dumpling deputies. He was tempted to go across the road and say hello to his friend, hence the quivering bush.
But MB guessed quite correctly that Lou was in a particularly bad mood because of what those mischievous teenagers had done to the town welcome sign, and let's not forget that humungous hangover due to the amount of tequila she'd drunk at Abe's Bar and Grill the previous night with himself, and his best friend, good ol' Duane-o.
MB chuckled quietly, and mused, she'd never find out who was responsible for defiling the sign. The law hardly ever did find out those responsible for scribbling on the town welcome sign. It just wasn't a priority—not that there were any priorities in Big Beaver.
MB regarded himself as a stand-up, law-abiding citizen and knew he should tell the sheriff who was responsible, but he—Chief Mocking Bird—was no snitch. And besides, he didn't want to give himself away, not just yet.
As for that Chief thing, well, Mocking Bird liked to stretch the truth for the tourists, for Old Indian legend tells us that man is judged by his nickname, and if he gains respect from nickname, then he is a fortunate man to be sure. Not to mention, said tourists were always ready to buy him a beer or two or three, and have their photo taken with the Big Brave Chief.
MB smiled to himself when he thought back a few years ago-fifteen years to be exact-to when he'd been just a mere pup. He'd been hiding in the undergrowth in this exact spot-something he often liked to do, and had watched Lou Magic-Marker the sign with something lewd. She had done it on a dare-dared by Duane, and as far as he knew, she had only done it the once. It was something that he would never let her forget and would often tease her about.
MB turned his attention away from Sheriff Lou to look at a yellow VW camper heading towards Big Beaver. It was those mischievous kids again—the very same ones that had defiled the town welcome sign the previous night. He hoped they wouldn't give the game away if Lou decided to stop them for no apparent reason, except for being guilty of something as all kids were.
SHERIFF LOU WATCHED the VW camper's approach and decided to let it pass. She recognized the van as belonging to Beau Flucker. It suddenly occurred to her that Beau might very well be responsible for this crime. He was always up to something stupid, but if he didn't do it, probably one of his friends did. Perhaps Duane wasn't responsible after all.
Lou stared at the approaching VW. She could make out three individuals sitting in the front of the camper-Chad the driver, Naomi and Debbie. No Beau. He was probably sleeping off the excesses of the night in the back of the van.
To the sheriff's surprise, the camper stopped suddenly by her patrol car with a screech of rubber, skewing alarmingly, stopping just two inches from the car's rear bumper.
The sheriff raised a curious eyebrow, folded her arms and half wished the teenagers had wrecked her car. It would have made this trip worthwhile.
MB FROWNED and wondered what the teenagers wanted to say to the sheriff. It wasn't normal, getting the law's attention like that. Something was up. He eagerly listened in. He watched Lou put a hand on her hip and indicate with a come-here hand.
The three teenagers frantically bundled out of the camper, gesticulating down the road. The kids bombarded the sheriff with a cacophony of jumbled words, not making any sense at all, except it had something to do with Beau Flucker as his name kept cropping up.
They sure seemed upset about something , the chief thought. And where was Beau? What if he'd had an accident? A brief look of angst flicked across MB's face. He watched and listened.
Sheriff Lou put up her hands and shouted as loud as she dared, "Shut the hell up!"
The three teenagers faltered for a moment with over-excited faces.
Sheriff Lou nodded, "That's better." She pointed to the road sign. "You kids do that?"
MB waited for the obviously guilty teenagers to answer as they gawped at the sign with blank, innocent looks.
Naomi, a petite, pretty-faced, reddish-haired seventeen-year-old, glanced at the sign and shook her head no.
"Beau's gone missing. He's been missing all night."
MB's first instinct was to shrug with a sad understanding at hearing Beau had gone missing, but Old Indian legend tells us man who eavesdrops should wait until the fat lady has sung. MB gave a mischievous grin as a thought struck him. Beau hadn't really gone missing. He was just fooling around again. This wouldn't be the first time he'd faked his disappearance, nor was it the second time either.
MB tried to remember how many times Beau had gone missing in the woods, claiming Bigfoot had abducted him. The answer eluded him. No matter. Yeah, sure, Bigfoot abducted him, as if, thought MB.
SHERIFF LOU LOOKED dubiously at Naomi. She glanced over at the other two fidgeting teenagers then back to the emotional teenager. The sheriff's instincts told her they were fooling around, as usual.
Twice she'd actually fallen for Beau's antics and had mounted time-consuming search parties into the woods for the idiot, only to call off the search as Beau had miraculously shown up in town telling everyone, who was dumb enough to listen, that Bigfoot had abducted him.
How Beau managed to escape the clutches of Bigfoot was never determined, for not even Beau could come up with an adequate explanation. Small wonder then that no one believed Beau no matter how much he insisted he was telling the truth.
Pretending to be abducted by Bigfoot was a well-worn practical joke, realized Lou. It was getting old. Many Beaverites and tourists alike had claimed Bigfoot had abducted them, some even going so far as to say they were sexually abused by Bigfoot. A certain member of Beau's family, namely his father, Walt Flucker, claimed he'd also been regularly abducted by Bigfoot, not to mention regularly taken by tall, blond aliens from the planet Abba.
"Oh yeah . . . gone missing has he? Spent the night in the woods again, have we?" Lou asked sarcastically.
She sniffed Naomi's filthy t-shirt. It stank of wacky tobaccy. The sheriff shook her head warily, unable to summon up the tiniest amount of concern for Beau's whereabouts.
"Hope you told your parents where you were last night?" she warned with raised eyebrows.
Chad, a pimply-faced, scrawny, seventeen -year-old with a mop of black hair, jumped nervously up and down on the spot. He pointed into the woods, directly at MB.
"Beau went to take a piss behind a tree and that was the last we saw of him . . . honest."
Lou tilted her head and folded her arms as she looked at Chad. She gave him a dubious look. She wagged her finger.
"Better not be messing with me, Chad, I'm not in the best of moods right now."
"You gotta believe us, Sheriff," Debbie interrupted. She was an overweight, bespectacled seventeen-year-old with short, spiky black hair.
They were certainly putting on a good act, thought Lou. They seemed genuine for once.
"I suppose you're going to tell me Bigfoot took Beau . . . again?"
"Well, yeah? I guess … Maybe … I don't know." Chad said. "It obviously wasn't aliens."
Naomi nudged Chad in his guts with her elbow, beseeching, "Chad's right . . . it wasn't the aliens . . . we
don't know who or what took Beau, but it's the truth . . . he's gone missing . . . and for real this time."
Lou rubbed her throbbing temple and sighed. Well this was a new slant on things. Beau's friends always claimed they knew what had abducted Beau-a Bigfoot. She sighed heavily. What if they were telling the truth this time? Lou doubted it, but what if they were? What a fucked-up start to the day.
But Sheriff Lou had her job to do and that meant to serve the community to the best of her abilities. And that meant if someone, especially some snot-nosed kid went missing she had to take it seriously. But how seriously? That was the all-important question.
Well, that depended on the circumstances and the person who had gone missing. How could she take Beau Flucker's disappearance seriously with his past history of fake abductions? But she knew she'd at least have to go through the motions and look like an interested sheriff doing her honor- bound duty.
Lou blew out her cheeks and sighed heavily, "Okay . . . where exactly were you when Beau supposedly disappeared."
Naomi pointed in the direction they had come from, a ways up the road. "In the clearing . . . up at Little Beaver."
Little Beaver! That place is becoming a tourist trap for alien abductions and Bigfoot sightings. She was reminded of last year's incident when two locals went missing for almost two days. She was on the verge of contacting the FBI when Walt turned up with both of them, claiming to have been abducted by aliens and experimented upon. All three would not divulge what these experiments were.
Better take a look, thought Lou. She scanned from one innocent face to the next and knew beyond all doubt she should have stayed in bed this morning. Nothing ever happened in Big Beaver. She walked up to the VW van and peered in the back to see a mess of camping gear, but no Beau.
"One of you had better come back with me. That's you, Chad."
Chad perked up and looked ready to go with a wide grin.
"You two kids had better get back to town." She gave the two girls a questioning look. "I don't suppose you've been drinking and puffing on the magic dragon?"
Debbie and Naomi shook their heads, no, and tried to look like two little schoolgirls. They failed miserably.
Lou smiled knowingly, "What the heck . . . I was your age, once." She looked at Chad. "Come on, dufus, you can show me where you were last night."
"Right on, Sheriff!"
Lou turned towards the woods on the other side of the road and called out, "See you later, MB." She waved to the quivering bush.
FROM HIS HIDING PLACE, deep in the undergrowth, MB the eternal voyeur, watched Chad hurry round the sheriff's patrol car and get into the passenger side. He dropped his directional microphone when Lou called out and waved to him.
"Shit!" MB prided himself on being invisible for Old Indian legend tells us that man who is invisible cannot be seen.
MB watched the sheriff drive off for Little Beaver. Girlish giggling drew his attention back to the two teenage girls. Now what were those kids up to? Beau taken by Bigfoot! That's impossible. Most likely ol' Duane-o put them up to it. Yeah, that's it. Hold on though, Duane wouldn't be that dumb. So what if Bigfoot had taken Beau? Nah, there were no such creatures as Bigfoot, thought MB, even though as a crypto-zoologist it would have been his sworn duty to believe in such things.
He watched the tail lights of the sheriff's patrol car disappear round a bend in the road. A moment later the VW camper started up and sputtered off towards town.
MB's thoughts returned to Bigfoot. Suppose, just suppose, Bigfoot had taken Beau? That would be fucking amazing. At that very moment, he felt an overwhelming excitement at the prospect of Beau being kidnapped by Bigfoot. A new sense of purpose overwhelmed him, but it was only fleeting. He quickly told himself to get a grip on reality-there were no such creatures as Bigfoot. With a woeful sigh, MB removed his headphones and started to pack all his covert listening gear into a camouflaged rucksack.
4
AT THE SAME TIME Sheriff Lou was en route to Little Beaver, Duane Dexter sat at a table eating breakfast at Annie's Diner. He was two years older than Lou, tall with straggly, shoulder length, blond hair. By no means unattractive, but due to his shabby appearance-scuffed jeans and beer-stained shirt, and being in need of a good shave, his Nordic good looks were well-hidden from all but those who had seen Duane looking better. Not that Duane gave two flying farts what anyone thought about his appearance.
Duane looked around Annie's rustic-and proud of it-diner and smiled at the chintzy curtains, the chintzy tablecloths, the chintzy napkins, all clashing hideously with the bare, rough-hewn wooden walls, adorned with photos of—you guessed it—Bigfoot.
He stared at one blow up and thought long and hard. Where was he that day? Nothing came to him. Fuck it! It'll come to him when he least expected it, which was basically how Duane went through life—never knowing what was around the next corner—for one of MB's Old Indian legends tells us that man who always knows what's around the next corner is one dull dude.
Duane was in the middle of eating a cooked breakfast of thick-sliced ham, three eggs over easy, beans, hash browns and blueberry buckwheat pancakes, accompanied with a large prune juice and several cups of strong black coffee-a breakfast of champions.
Someone shouted out, "Hey, Duane-o, why don't you scrub my furry ass clean?"
Several customers sniggered.
Many Beaverites regarded Duane as the prime suspect in the much-discussed, topic number one serial bather case. The case in question—though not injurious to individuals, had forced the sheriff's department to investigate this most mischievous of crimes when they could have been spending time and effort dealing with genuine crimes in town, of which there were none.
Annie Bumgardner—who happened to be born on the same day as Duane—was the excessively buxom, blond-haired owner of Annie's Diner. She stood behind the counter of her establishment serving breakfast to her customers. Annie was quite attractive and relished showing off her Grand Canyon cleavage as she leaned over the counter top for her male customers to ogle. By now, Annie had gained quite a few pounds, but wore it well.
Sheriff Lou's four deputies, including Deputy Heidi, Annie's identical twin sister, were seated at the counter eating their large breakfasts mainly consisting of Dwight's birthday cake, the remains of which were scattered over the counter top. Of course, Heidi was not fixated on Annie's breasts bursting forth from her deliberately undersized shirt, the buttons of which strained to keep them from spilling onto the counter top.
There was barely a seat to spare at the tables or at the counter of the diner. Annie's wasn't the only diner in town, but what made her place so popular with the locals and tourists alike was the best and cheapest food in town with plenty of bosom to go with it. Her "All-you-can-eat breakfast days" were a spectacular success and particular favorite of those horny men who chose to eat at her establishment.
Locals and tourists loved breakfast time at Annie's. And she loved them back, usually with a big hug—the lucky ones receiving a face-full of her breasts. It had to be said that Annie was a giving, nurturing woman, whose one aim in life was to get hitched and push out a couple of kids before nature took its inevitable course. Duane was her number one choice for supplying the necessary man juice. Unfortunately for Annie, he was also her twin sister's first choice for the necessary man juice needed to produce the required baby bump.
Duane was well aware what the sisters—known affectionately as the Bumsen Sisters, wanted from him, but so far, he was playing hard to get, and wasn't ready to donate the required man juice for that reason. He was quite happy to keep things just the way they were with both sisters, that being, Annie and Heidi would oblige him whenever they wanted some booty, Bigfoot-style. Five times a week with both sisters equaled to ten fucks a week minimum, more than enough to keep him happy.
Annie opened the counter top flap and sauntered over to Duane's table with a steaming pot of coffee.
Duane slowly munched on the last slice of pancake, nois
ily savoring it.
"Yummy," Duane exclaimed, rolling his eyes.
He re-focused his eyes, noticing the sarcastic smirks on Bob and Chuck-two grizzled slackers in their mid-forties-seated in a corner. It had to be Chuck who made that bather comment, thought Duane. He ignored the asswipe hunters, not because he didn't like them, but simply because they were hunters.
With a cheeky smile on her face, Annie topped up his coffee and asked, "You want some more?"
Duane stared into Annie's wobbling bosom then into the come-and-get-it look on her face. He was drained after last night.
"I've had enough, Annie."
"Aw, don't be like that . . . you must still be hungry after last night?" She gave a naughty little chuckle and nudged him with an elbow, sloshing coffee. "Come on, my Bigfoot boy."
"No can do," he said with that amiable smile of his.
Annie sat down on the vinyl seat next to Duane. She nestled up close and put her hand on his knee and gave a squeeze, wrinkling her nose at his pungent body odor.
"How's your sweet, lovely head, my big, bad Bigfoot boy?"
Duane lifted a cheek to scratch his butt and thought for a moment about which head she was referring to. He decided she was referring to his upper head. He lightly tapped his temple. No pain. "Not a twinge."
Annie pursed her lips together and pouted. Her hand rummaged Duane's goods. "That head, silly."
Duane realized he hadn't been much company last night-sex-wise, due to having over-indulged on beer and whisky at Abe's Bar and Grill.
"Sorry about last night. But you know how it is." He looked down at his groin being massaged by Annie's hand. "It just wasn't in me to oblige both you girls."
Annie gave an exaggerated sigh, "Don't fret, hon . . . it was my fault for letting Heidi get to you first." She shook her head and stared coolly at Heidi's back. "That one sure knows how to drain a guy."
