The cave was small, dark and decorated with flowers and leaves of every color. The walls, streaked with luminous metals, were adorned with crude drawings of tall men with pale hair, floating into a massive donut with what looked like rays beaming down. The roof of the cave was festooned with garlands of daisy-chains hanging from tree roots. All the cobwebs had been dusted away. The entrance to the cave was discretely covered with bushes and undergrowth and was barely big enough for an adult Bigfoot to squeeze through.
Once Zola had swatted the remaining buzzie she sat on her haunches in a dark corner of the cave, and sighed with wuv for her sleeping Boo. She slowly rocked back and forth, mewling pathetically, “Woooo … weeee … woooo … weeeee.”
A shaft of sunlight filtered through the entrance onto her plaything as he lay comfortably on a bed of leaves and grass. He was trussed up with thin vines to prevent him from escaping. A piece of cloth torn from his t-shirt was tied around his mouth to muffle any sounds he made which might attract the other Bigfoot to his whereabouts. She stroked his fine blond hair. A large spider scampered over Boo’s face and crawled up the cave wall. Zola was annoyed and went to catch the creepy crawly.
Zola eyed the hairy critter, “Mine, not yours!” She wagged a finger at the beastie.
The spider bristled its hairs and sent a message into Zola’s mind, “Su casa es mi casa, Chiquita.” It scuttled across the ceiling.
Zola stretched and hopped to reach the naughty spider.
Beau opened his eyes and spat out the cloth. He watched Zola chase the large spider across the roof of the cave. He rolled to his feet and dashed through the entrance, but found it difficult to run with hands tied behind his back. All he could think of was to stay on his feet.
Zola caught the spider and turned triumphantly to an empty cave. She howled in desperation on seeing her empty wuv nest. Rushing from her home, she immediately picked up Boo’s sounds in the distance. She crashed through the forest getting closer to his desperate cries.
Zola rushed to the edge of a steep embankment that led down to the magic waters of Little Beaver River. There at the bottom, floundering in a deep pool was her Boo. He was having a hard time staying above water with his hands tied with vines.
Zola slid down the embankment on her hairy butt and splashed into the cold water. What she saw under the water made her bubble with joy. All around her were Jooobaaa blossoming luminous yellow. The ear-shaped magic mushrooms were attached to every pebble and rock, base of submerged trees and old tree trunks. She had found a mating pool.
Boo froze in terror as a massive wave engulfed him. He sank to the bottom of the crystal pool.
Zola grabbed him around the ankle and dragged him from the cold water. Without stopping she dragged Boo back up the embankment feet first.
He hollered like a buck with its dangler caught in brambles, so Zola dropped him and before he slid back down she yanked him to his feet and clasped his big mouth with her hand. She had learnt her lesson.
“No sound make,” she said. “Keep noise no.” She put finger to lips.
Beau looked with wild eyes full of fear, convulsed and spewed water through her fingers. He was taken back to the cave with Zola’s hand attached to his mouth. What the hell was he gonna say to his parents?
Beau couldn’t very well say she was a Bigfoot coz she could talk, but if she was some wild woman living in the forest then how come nobody had ever seen her before. No one would believe that story either. Of course, he would have to escape to tell his tale. He also wondered what Zola had in store for him. That episode of The X-Files — The Jersey Devil crossed his mind bringing a shiver of terror at the thought of being eaten.
Zola shoved Boo into the cave and covered the entrance once more. She was annoyed to see more buzzies flitting about and madly swatted at them. With the last buzzie gone, the sun was now low in the sky.
Zola used more vines to tie Boo to a large boulder. She was about to stuff the torn shirt into his mouth, but Boo shook his head so much she decided not to use it. With a sad sigh, she looked lovingly at her trussed-up plaything. If wishes could come true he would reciprocate her wuv. But such a bond between a natural born Bigfoot and an un-chosen human was forbidden by The Elders. Only a chosen one was allowed to mate with Bigfoot and Boo hadn’t been chosen, as far as she could tell. She knew her secret wouldn’t last, but that didn’t stop her baby Bigfoot-wuv from aching her heart.
She sighed woefully then gave a whimper, “Weeee … woooo … weeee.”
Beau sat upright and stared into her big iridescent blue eyes. “What the hell are you?”
Zola crept closer to Boo and stroked his fine blond hair. More than anything right then, Zola wanted to be blonde like her plaything.
“Weee … wooo … weeee … woooo,” she cried for her lovely plaything.
Beau flinched at her touch and her stink like rotten eggs raped his nostrils. He saw the instant hurt in her eyes and for some stupid reason he could not even guess at — he felt guilty.
“Sorry Zola … I won’t do that again.” This he hoped would appease her wild nature. He saw the look of joy on her face.
“Wuv my Boo.” Zola put a hand to her mouth and gasped. She jumped to her feet and did a Bigfoot happy dance. The wuv word had been spoken to her Boo for the first time. She was overjoyed, but that was momentarily interrupted as the cracking of twigs could be heard outside. Zola stopped her Bigfoot boogie and dashed from the cave.
Beau squirmed and wiggled like a maggot to get free and knew it was a waste of time and effort. He listened to what seemed to be angry howls coming from Zola and something else. Were there more of them, he wondered? The cave went dark as Zola came back. His wide eyes of crystal blue stared into Zola’s equally large eyes and then he spoke, “Are you a Bigfoot Babe?”
At first, Zola cocked her head, deciding whether to tell the truth. She couldn’t see the harm so she admitted, “Me Bigfoot … me Zola.”
Beau frowned, “But look at the size of you. You’re shorter than me. All Bigfoot are way over seven feet tall … it says so on my blog.”
Zola pouted, “Am Bigfoot.” Stamping her feet in a hissy fit, she saw his fear.
She rushed to him and stroked his hair, mewling pathetically. But to her dismay, Boo reared away from her in obvious terror. Reaching out to him and again, he flinched with fear. Her Bigfoot heart shriveled to the size of a wild apple. She cried, putting her head in her hands. The Bigfoot Babe blues hit her hard right where her wildly beating heart thumped in her heaving chest.
Zola let out a woeful howl, “Woooooooooooo!”
Beau thought he was going mad. Again, he felt guilty for upsetting her. But the weirdest thing was the other feeling he had. He felt hot and feverish and he had this urge to go wild, go apeman in the woods like some screwed up Tarzan. His tongue licked dry lips and something else messed with his head real good — Zola actually looked cute, almost cute enough to do. Come to think of it, she had a nice figure, firm and well-muscled, and her smell was actually quite manageable now. Perhaps this is what happens to kidnap victims.
Duane stirred in his sleep. He dreamt he was floating above the sofa. The bright lights reminded him of his duty as The Guardian — they reminded him to set the plan in motion.
Duane muttered with eyes closed, “The plan must succeed … the plan … the plan.”
He woke up and looked around unsure of where he was for a moment. His dream fragmented and made little sense
Duane glanced at the clock on the mantle.
“Crap!” He sprang to his feet.
Chapter 14
The Bigfoot Babe Blues
A LARGE BLOND hairy figure with a moth-eaten rucksack flitted from shadow to shadow in the dusky twilight down an alley at the back of Ponderosa Street. A dumpster and some trash-cans were directly in his path. He skirted them.
“Howdy Duane!” a dog-walking Beaverite said with a friendly gesture. The dog dropped a poop. He scooped up the mess into a poop baggie and ga
ve it to the dog. The dog dutifully carried it in its mouth.
“How would you like to carry your own doo-doo, butt-breath,” Danny the dog said to his owner.
Duane sniggered and shrugged at the dog. He vanished into the shadows watching the guy looking over his shoulder at Phantom Bigfoot. Duane waited for the local to move on and continued in stealth mode towards the sheriff’s house like John Belushi on the steps of Dean Wormer’s office building in National Lampoon’s Animal House.
Phantom Bigfoot stopped to make sure he was not observed, scanning this way and that, only to hear the yowl of a stray cat. He jumped and went stiff, hoping not to be seen. The cat looked up into Duane’s wild eyes and knew beyond all doubt this was one stupid, screwed up pink thing. Just for fun, Boofuls the cat slashed its claws across Duane’s ankle and ran like batshit down the street, screeching its brains out.
“Thank you, Boofuls.” Duane scratched his itching ankle.
As he passed Lou’s patrol car parked on the driveway at the side of the house he sniggered at her carelessness. The keys were in the ignition. Nothing ever happened in Big Beaver.
He made his way up to the side door of the house, tried the door handle and discovered the door was unlocked. Despite being in law enforcement, Lou seldom locked her side door and Duane knew this. With the cunning of Phantom Bigfoot he entered Lou’s home with a devilish glint to his eyes. He entered the kitchen and closed the door behind him with a snigger.
Duane opened the refrigerator and removed a bottle of tequila and a carton of OJ. He poured some of the contents of each down the sink and replenished them with his plastic bottle of Jooobaaa from his rucksack. He spilled some Jooobaaa on the kitchen work surface.
He leaned down and licked up the Jooobaaa, “Mmm … Jooobaaaliscious!” He shook the tequila and OJ and slipped them back into the refrigerator with a giggle.
****
Duane skipped down Main Street, footloose and fancy free. He checked the clock on the church steeple which told him it was time to get his ass in motion. He, like everyone else in town still didn’t take seriously Beau’s disappearance. But he, like all Beaverites did take seriously Wednesday nights at Earl’s Bar & Grill. And this was Wednesday night and he was the entertainment.
Duane rushed towards Earl’s, located on the western edge of town, at the top of Main Street. His mouth was already watering for his favorite beer made out back of the bar where a micro brewery created five distinctive beers. Baby Bigfoot Bitter at 0.0% — Twin Pines Light at 3.4% — Big Beaver Bitter at 4.9% — Bigfoot ESB at 5.6% and last but not least, for those who wanted to fall down real quick — Sasquatch Ale at 7.2%. Duane loved Sasquatch Ale but thought it wise to keep a clear head as Lou was waiting for him, and besides she would have Earl arrested for allowing him to have alcohol.
Duane gamboled up to Polly and Wally Doodle and put an arm around their shoulders in a Bigfoot hug. All three entered the large log and stone cabin with a red sign stating this was Earl’s Bar & Grill.
Duane searched the place for MB and Lou. The bar was fit to burst with locals and tourists, including the newly arrived Japanese sightseers. Live entertainment and dancing added ambiance to the beer-guzzling, shoe-tapping rowdy atmosphere. The walls were rough-hewn logs and the floor consisted of sawdust-covered planks of pine. All in all, a very rustic, but friendly place to get your brain totaled.
Duane noticed MB with their backing group. Then he spotted Lou and immediately ascertained her dour demeanor. He decided to give her some legroom.
Sheriff Lou sat on a swivel stool at the bar drinking the last mouthful of Baby Bigfoot Bitter from a tall glass. She was casually dressed in figure-hugging jeans and a tight t-shirt which accentuated her glorious figure. The only makeup adorning her face was bright pink lip-gloss. Her short-cropped hair was spiked with gel and somehow it suited her. She looked like a hot rock chick.
Behind the bustling bar stood the six-feet-three inch tall Earl, a well-fed, red-faced, jovial man in his early sixties. He laughed as he served drinks and chatted to his customers. Like Annie’s Diner, Earl dished out the freebies, and Wednesdays and Mondays were “all-you-could-eat-steak-and-fries night”, accompanied with one free beer — a pitcher of Bigfoot ESB.
The sheriff’s department also received extra freebies in the shape of “all-you-could-eat-steak-and-fries” night, six nights a week, excluding Sundays.
Earl watched Lou as she emptied her glass. He asked, “You want another one, Lou?”
Lou thought about that for a brief moment and frowned — yeah okay, she might as well have another non alcohol drink. She was being good. No tequila, just light brews. Besides she wasn’t going to get caught out like last night, on the hop, so to speak, by none other than The Phantom Bigfoot Bather. She had made an ass of herself today so she decided to play safe.
Truth be known the main reason for visiting Earl’s that evening was she didn’t want to spend the evening alone at home watching TV. She wanted to be around people, maybe even have a laugh or two. The sad fact was she was lonely and needed a man in her life. Someone to come home to, someone to share her bed. Oh boy did she need a man. Thinking of what was missing from her life tempted her to have something stronger but no, she’d stick to light brews.
“Yeah fill her up,” Lou ordered as she pushed her empty glass across the bar.
Earl deftly caught the glass and refilled it.
“Heard Beau’s gone missing … yet again,” he mused with a stifled chuckle. “Also heard, you had the dogs out looking for him, yet again.” He looked cheekily at Lou as he slid the glass back to her.
Lou shrugged and sighed wearily as she caught her glass. She took a hefty sip and pondered her situation. “If the shit fits, wear it, Earl. The damn dogs couldn’t track nothing … too much stink. Beau probably backtracked his way from the spot where he’d gone to take a leak.” She shook her head with dismay. “I betcha all the money in the world he’s holed up at a friend’s place laughing his dumbass head off at my expense.” Lou took a hefty gulp. “Damn it to hell … should’ve searched their homes.” She sighed, “What’s done is done, I guess.”
They were all in on the charade, Lou thought. By now, Beau was probably partying with Chad and their girlfriends. Of course, she was just guessing, but her gut was telling her nothing at all had happened to Beau. He’d probably show up tomorrow, if he didn’t show up tonight. And he’d probably say Bigfoot took him — like father like son.
Earl gave a cheeky wink, “He’s just messing with you, Lou … you know that.”
She nodded her head. “Yeah … I guess so.” She looked askance at the Grace Hotel waiter, a tall muscular Italian type with slick black hair, nursing a beer and looking gooey-eyed at a buxom, red-headed waitress serving drinks to patrons in a skimpy outfit that barely covered her ass.
Lou smiled at the handsome Joey. “Grace has given you the night off, Joey?”
Joey was distracted, barely acknowledging Lou, “Yeah, whatever.” He ignored her for the more obvious attributes displayed by the waitress as she bent down to pick up a tip deliberately tossed by a male customer to get her to bend over.
Lou idly watched the waitress hurry over to the bar and slam the empty tray down.
The waitress called out, “Six more ESBs Earl.”
Earl nodded, “Coming right up, Tina.”
She turned to Joey. “When you gonna pop the question, Joey?”
Joey flinched and gulped his beer. He had panic written all over his face.
Tina giggled. “Don’t sweat it … I know you’ll come around.” She hefted the replenished tray and faltered with a look of awe, or was it shock, or perhaps revulsion.
As Lou took another sip of beer her face contorted at the dreadful pong of rotten eggs and stale sweat. She gagged on her drink, and turned to see Duane standing next to her dressed as a stinky Bigfoot.
She knew beyond all doubt it was Duane dressed in his Bigfoot duds because he had his furry head under his armpit. He smil
ed amiably at her. His eyes twinkled mischievously, which spelled trouble for Lou.
Tina blew a kiss to Duane and distributed her beers.
Joey snarled at Duane and slid from his stool to follow Tina like a love-sick puppy.
Lou smiled and looked at Duane with a mixture of affection and revulsion. She sniffed his manly odor and got a quick reminder of the Bigfoot Bather crime scenes and the odor she’d got a whiff of at the X trees.
She’d often remarked — not just to Duane, but to anyone who cared to listen, that if only he’d get a haircut, shave off that scruffy face fuzz and wore some decent clothes and not his faded, tatty jeans and “I’m a Bigfoot” t-shirt, or that stinky Bigfoot outfit of his, he’d pass for not half-bad, quite acceptable, even attractive, come to think of it, really attractive, sort of like a younger looking Brad Pitt as he was in Dallas. Not that she could ever be actually attracted to Duane, but those blue eyes of his were so dreamy. Brad Pitt was a different matter, a real MBA — major babe attractor. As for Duane he was more like a baby brother to her.
She knew damned well Duane wasn’t concerned in keeping up appearances. Neither was he that bothered in attracting the fairer sex. So why was he so popular with the ladies? One reason — and it made her sad that it was often the case as it demeaned women as a whole — Duane was loaded.
He had been left a considerable amount of money by his only uncle who had no family except Duane and Sam, Duane’s father. Great Uncle Wainwright had bought a parcel of land in Florida in the late ‘50s. The land was just your basic swampland full of gators and such, but Great Uncle Wainwright knew a scam when he saw one. He sold the land to an equally devious developer who built condominiums — mostly retirement condominiums on the land once it had been drained.
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