CASE 4 - Bigfoot

My quest to find and punch cryptids is going very well. Thus far I have very nearly tracked down and punched three dangerous creatures previously unproven to science, allowing hundreds to sleep soundly at night.

My work is proudly featured on the ‘Local Heroes’ board of the library. They finally took down Auld Jim’s shite poem about the war to make space. It wasn’t even about fighting, he spent four years on the Burma Railway. Come on Jim, I’ve inter-railed about Europe and though the toilets can be pretty grim, it wasn’t that bad.

The public need to know about YetiSmack’s quest and the message board’s the way to go for local support. But pride comes before a fall, and my latest case very nearly ended me. I realise I’m writing this now, which cuts the tension, but I could be writing from beyond the grave. Except I don’t believe in ghosts: I’m not mental.

Bottom line: if you want to enjoy this case to the max, assume I could’ve been killed by Bigfoot. Shit I gave it away early. I should say I’m dictating this over the phone from LAX via my friend Peggy in Westhill. She doesn’t know how to use delete. Peggy’s an idiot. Did I get her? Bet I did.

                I was in LAX not long ago waiting to come home after my Chupacabra adventure, and I got another email. That’s two emails! Incredible. This time it was from Craig in Washington state telling me he knew how to find Bigfoot.

Craig is a proud American with a small collection of firearms.
Craig 2011

‘Oh Christ, this is it.’ I thought, ‘This is what YetiSmack’s all about. I’m going after a proper big bastard cryptid this time. The daddy of them all: Bigfoot.’

This prick’s been roaming around North America for donkey’s years, scaring the arse off all sorts of folk; with many being surprisingly proven sane afterwards. If I could kick Bigfoot in the cock then I’d be a proper cryptid hunter, a proper scientist.

America’s a great country, full of nice folk. Nice folk who like guns, and aren’t shy of using them on the other animals charging about the place. So Bigfoot’s had to learn to be a sly little sod. No one’s ever gotten a definitive photo of him... Until now that is!!

Craig took the below photo on a wee walk he was having. It's truly stunning. The bugger leapt out at him and he managed to take the photo before Bigfoot scarpered.

Bigfoot encounter in Washington state, June 2011.
Craig 2011.

Bigfoot’s a complicated character. Some see him as a nature-loving tree-dweller at one with the ickle animals who scamper around his toes, whilst others (me) see him as a bush-lurking menace and a smelly man-botherer.

The good Bigfoot of popular misconception:
At one with nature and worried about pollution.
YetiSmack 2011.

The bad Bigfoot: Now we're talking. Woah, look at this psycho!
This one also likes flashing his junk, which has been censored.
YetiSmack 2011.

 

At about ten foot tall, Bigfoot is one big hairy galoot. He may also be omnivorous and know tool use. This means he may be able to use a telephone. The last thing I need is for the polis to rock up as I’m laying the smack down; or is that laying down the smack? Peggy?

I don’t know, Ivar.

Did you write that down?

Yes.

Jesus wept.

You said write down everything. That It’s all gold.

Ah Christ Peggy, don’t use my name, I’m incognito! Never mind, folk’ll assume it’s a pseudonym... You wrote that too didn’t you? Forget it, my flight’s in ten so let’s crack on.

Craig’s a park ranger who pronounces his name ‘Creg’ for some bloody reason. His location is classified (like my name used to be, Peggy), as he’ll get the sack if they find out he’s letting violent folk like me get up close and distinctly personal with a national treasure.

We got a plan together. I’d hide in the boot (trunk) of the car and Craig (Creg) would lure Bigfoot (arsehole) out with some saucy mating calls and a lovely big steak from a disposable BBQ, or some crisps (chips) if he’s vegetarian. I had an inkling that shifty tosser would be a vegetarian, seems the type.

I took up my position in the car boot with my equipment. I had a load of JD and rubbish US beer to keep me going (it was a working holiday after all), and some cement to make casts of footprints.

To be honest, I needed some Dutch courage to take on this cryptid, so I got into the bevvies pretty sharpish and soon I was extremely refreshed!

I was in for a treat: An evening of JD, beer and cement.
YetiSmack 2011.

I lay in the boot and waited. I knew Craig was nearby, but I felt totally alone. This was it, this was what YetiSmack was all about. That night I was going to fight a legend. I kept drinking to stay good and sharp.

The growling woke me, causing me to spill my beer and knock over the bottle of JD. Then the car began to shake up and down, as if something huge was on top of it. I could hear roaring right outside the boot door, and scrabbling at the door lock! Bigfoot was after me!

 I could hear a second voice. It seemed to be laughing. Christ there were two of them, and they were pissing themselves. This wasn’t part of the plan.

All I could think was ‘escape’. I’m a brave guy: I once gave a policeman the fingers from the back window of a bus and he totally saw it. But this was too much.

I didn’t stand a chance against two Bigfeet.

It was then that I realised the critical flaw in the plan. You can’t open the boot from inside. Have there not been enough murders and kidnappings in America for manufacturers to put a handle on the inside?

I went apeshit. It was unprofessional of me, but I lost it. Unfortunately, I kicked open the cement bags, which promptly mixed with the JD and beers to produce an excellent patio/man-trap on the boot floor. So that was me for the night...

I woke up the next morning with a massive hangover and covered in cement. I felt a total fanny. I eventually chipped myself free with a tyre iron and kicked the boot open: the car deposit was gone, so why bother with niceties. I rolled out of the boot onto the grass, and my blood ran cold.

There on the ground was a single polaroid photo. It’s meaning is lost to me, and only raises more questions.  Is this the face of Bigfoot? Is this his accomplice? Is it an innocent passing monkey? 

There was no sign of Craig anywhere, so I legged it.

Left by Bigfoot to taunt me, the cheeky sod.
Bigfoot (?) 2011.

Ancient warriors had feuds that lasted for years, there have been wars that have spanned centuries, and bank queues are often really long as there’s never enough staff to man all the desks. On top of that, there’s usually at least one of them clearly just wandering about doing bugger all, making themselves look busy but probably thinking themselves too good to be helping me pay my leccie bill, which was only overdue cos I didn't have a stamp.

The point is, that there is now a full-blown feud between YetiSmack and the Bigfoot/Bigfeet. Perhaps I was naïve in thinking that this case would be as easy as jumping out of a car boot and punching a ten foot monkey-man.

We live and learn. Mark my words, Bigfoot has it coming.