Republic Day Sale: Grab up to 40% discount on all our books, use the code “REPUBLIC40” to avail of this limited-time offer!!
Republic Day Sale: Grab up to 40% discount on all our books, use the code “REPUBLIC40” to avail of this limited-time offer!!

Bigfoot Stole My Baby

Bigfoot Stole My Baby

25 mins

No part of this story may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying without written permission of the author.

This story is protected under the copyright laws of the United States and other countries throughout the world. Any unauthorized exhibition, distribution, or copying of this story or any part thereof may result in civil liability and criminal prosecution.

Bigfoot Stole My Baby

Chapter 1: The Song

The world scrambled when the news broke. It was about to happen. It is happening! Private jets filled the air. All were headed towards one place. Everyone wanted to be there. Everyone needed to be there. No one wanted to miss out. This was something. This was the thing! The walls rocked. The ground shook. The sky looked down in awe. Thunderous cheers filled the air. The moment neared. Then it happened. Waves of orgasmic delight washed over all there. They were in the moment. It was a moment. It was an event like no other. A life-changing event enveloped them all. Bodies contorted into heights of pleasure never before known. 

This orgy of delight went on for hours. Wave after wave of intense pleasure captivated all there. It was tantamount to ocean waves crashing on the shore. Again and again and again the waves came. Their adulation nearly drowned out the last few lines of my instantly classic song. My song took the world by storm. Lilting softly, soaring ever higher on the wings of the wild cheers of the millions on their feet, the final dulcet haunting tones of my miraculous song echoed on high as angels wept with joy. I had arrived.

"Bigfoot stoled my baby

He stoled my baby from me

Bigfoot stoled my baby

under a sequoia tree

Bigfoot stoled my baby

He stoled my baby from me

Forever cast in darkness

my heart will always be"

Women fainted. Men cheered themselves into hoarseness. Babies were born. Hearts were moved, forever. The lights came up. The concert was over. I bowed centerstage. I blew kisses to my adoring fans. People finally could breathe again. Millions collapsed to the ground, their bodies emotionally exhausted. An overwhelming warmth of eternal love was born within each of them. They were changed. They were new. They were mine. The world had a new hero. It was me.

I worked my way to the edge of the stage. I bowed repeatedly along the way. Each bow resulted in another thunderous cheer. The crowd surged forward in desperation. They didn't want the life-changing concert experience to ever end. The adoring throngs cried. They behaved as if they had just experienced a once in a lifetime religious experience. They had. Rivers of joyful tears ran from their eyes like a spigot that had not been turned quite off. There was not a dry cheek in the house. People fell to their knees weeping from joy. A feeling of love and unity filled the air like the air has never been filled before that day, or since. 

I finally reached the edge of the massive stage. It was the largest concert arena ever erected. It was erected just for my performance. The arena had over 14 million seats. Tens of millions of others stood around the outside of the arena. Anywhere standing was possible within ten miles of the stadium, people stood. I was greeted at the edge of the stage by the head reporter from Tumblin' Rock magazine, Mr. Early. Most people called him by his first name, Brighton. My backstage crew draped a plush beach towel over my shoulders. "Flabby Crabby" was emblazoned on the towel. It featured a large out of shape crab upon it. They hurried me off to the backstage dressing room. Brighton shuffled along closely behind us.

Once in the dressing room, I collapsed in a heap on a blue velvet couch. I was exhausted beyond exhaustion. The crew brought me a Pepsi with three fresh leaves of lemon verbena draped lovingly over the edge. Each leaf was equidistance apart. The glass contained 2 and ½ round ice cubes, the right half. It was a frosted zombie glass. It had a purple striped bendy straw in it. Just the way I like it. The only way I will drink it.

Brighton lifted a bowl filled with red M & M's. He offered them to me. I took seven. As I enjoyed my snack, Brighton told me how much he loved my song. Brighton said my song was the best song he had ever heard. 

"Heck, it is the best song anybody has ever heard!" laughed Brighton as he waved his arms wildly above his head. 

I smiled at Brighton. Deep furrows appeared on Brighton's forehead. He looked worried. He looked as if a deep concern had suddenly manifested deep within his thoughts. He leaned closer to me. 

He cautiously said "It's a great song for sure but it can't be, it can't be true. Is it?" 

A thousand-mile stare glazed over my eyes. My lips barely parted. In the distance, an owl hooted his lonely call into the night. They say on that day, from somewhere deep within my very soul, an ancient whisper voice was heard to reply "Yes."

Chapter 2: A Love Story

It was the late seventies, maybe the early eighties, nobody really knew back then. Hair styles had breached the precipice of physically possible hair height. Toyota Celica's were just about to get really ugly. Gluten was just a punk rock band from Berlin. It was a time of change. The times they were changing. Change is good. Sometimes.

I had finally found the girl of my dreams. It was love at first sight. She had honey blonde hair. She had the greenest green eyes anyone had ever seen. She had a smile that could light up the picture window in a Schoonmaker home on a dark October night. She was perfect. Her name was Clementine. Well, nothing is ever completely perfect. I'd come to know that all too soon.

Our new relationship honeymoon time was sailing along smoothly. We almost reached our third month anniversary before we hit a snag. The early sparkle of our love began to fade. We didn't want to surrender to the complacency of the run of the mill, everyday, boring relationships. We struggled to recapture that lightning in a bottle. We decided we needed a change. A change of environment might do the trick. We wanted as little distraction as possible. We decided to bathe ourselves deep within the pristine wonder that is nature. Seclusion in a naturally beautiful place might just be the cure for our ills. Little did I know at that time what an ill-fated decision that would be.

We were both as giddy as school girls as we packed our backpacks. We fantasized about our impending trip into the great outdoors. Life was good. Life was very good. It was one of those rare best times of life when you realized you were in the best time of life. They are rare. Some of the earlier sparks had already started to return. Love was in the air. We both found ourselves humming as we went through our everyday chores. It was then and there that I wrote my very first song. I think I wrote it in the morning.

"Over easy

over easy

that is how I

cooked our eggs

Crispy bacon

on the plate

right beside our

jellied bread"

The song was good. It was a little too good. I still get a little misty every time I hear it. Had da Vinci heard it, it would have inspired him to put down the brush to pick up a pen. Just imagine all the wonderful tunes Leonardo could have cranked out. Clementine thought she had heard that song before. I assured her that it was an original. It was my first. She thought such genius lyrics would be impossible for a first-time lyricist. It was just so good that it just sounded old. It wouldn't be impossible for a deeply inspired author to write such a glorious song. Clementine was my muse. She was my inspiration. She was my everything. It was Clementine who enabled me to achieve such lofty songwriting heights so quickly.

Each passing day found our backpacks packed a little tighter. Our departure day was approaching quickly. We selected a camp site in Washington State. It was known as Cape Disappointment. Sometimes names mean very little. Sometimes names mean a lot.

The day before our departure for Cape Disappointment, I heard a horrifying screech. It came from down the hallway in our house. I ran towards the terrifying sound. I found Clementine standing in the hallway outside our bathroom. She was holding a small white stick in her hand. She was smiling wider than seemed physically possible for her face to smile. Her feet were running a thousand miles per hour in place. They slapped the tongue in groove wooden floor in a blur of activity. Her feet moved so fast that my eyes could not capture the sight of either of her feet individually. I just saw foot-like blurs. They looked like when the road runner runs.

I approached her cautiously. 

I asked "You okay?" 

"Yes!" she shouted. 

She leapt on me like a spider monkey stealing a lunch bag from an unsuspecting tourist. She pushed a small plastic stick up towards my face. The stick had two small stripes on it. It smelled like pee. Papa Oom Mow Mow  lilted from the bathroom radio in the background. 

"We're expecting!" she gushed. 

"Really?" I asked. 

"There are two lines on the stick. Does that mean we will be having twins?" I asked sheepishly.

 "Yes!" She answered joyously "I think that's what it means. As they are different colors that must mean we're having a boy and a girl!"

 We hugged and hugged, then hugged some more. Life was good. Two would soon be three of us, oops, four.

"Should we cancel the trip?" I asked Clementine "Maybe camping would be too stressful with you being, you know, and all." 

Clementine shook her head saying "No, I'll be fine. Fresh air will be good for the baby. Wait! I mean babies!" She laughed. 

We did our we're having a baby happy dance. We sat down on the couch together. A huge, happy sigh birthed from us simultaneously. 

I tap huge, happy sighed her first. She owed me a coke.

Chapter 3: On the Road

Soon the departure day had arrived. Everything was packed into our green AWD Subaru. We said our goodbyes to everyone. We waved as we headed off to a new adventure. We waved goodbye to everyone, even strangers. They tried to ignore us but huge happy face smiles with hands a waving are hard to ignore, even from strangers. The miles passed quickly. We sang every song we knew as he rode along. I think we may have gotten some of the lines wrong to We Didn't Start the Fire. I'm pretty sure Billy Joel does too. Over the last few miles, we sang "There's a Head on Our Shoulders." It's one of those pass the time songs like bottles on the wall but more fun. It's a never-ending song that has an end.

There before us along the roadside, rising like the Phoenix amongst the pines, was a beautiful rustic billboard. It read Cape Disappointment 37 miles ahead. We both smiled our biggest mouth open smiles at each other. We looked away. We looked back at each other again with those very same huge smiles still carved into our mugs. Happiness reigned. Thirty seven miles never passed so quickly as they did on that day. Guinness jotted it down in their newest edition. I think miles may have been shorter back then. I can still hear the crunch of the gravel beneath our tires as we turned from the highway onto the entrance road to Cape Disappointment. A huge red log like arrow on a billboard insisted we turn there. So we did.

Next to a small shack in the center of the gravel road ahead stood a man in a uniform. He was a cross between a Royal Canadian Mounty and Punchinello. A sturdy wooden barricade blocked our way forward. The ranger stood proudly next to his shack. It was a nice shack. He was right to be proud. He plodded, chest out, until he stood centered in front of the lowered authoritarian gate. He lifted his large red leather gloved right hand, with shiny brass buckles and white fringes down the side, in a stop right there motion. We stopped right there. He sashayed over to the drivers window of the Subaru. He placed his beautifully gloved left hand atop our green Subaru, just over the open drivers window. The ranger spoke to me for the very first time. We would talk again, later.

The ranger announced "I welcome you to Camp Disappointment! I am Ranger Bowdy!" 

He had a loud bellowing, yet friendly voice. He waved his left arm in a Price is Right arc over a car you could win sort of way. He stopped speaking. He stared at us. It was an awkward moment. Not knowing what to do, we applauded. The ranger bowed in well earned appreciation.


"Who do we have here?" inquired the ranger with a wide toothy smile.

 I told the ranger our names. Clementine handed me a slip of paper. It had our reservation information on it. I handed the reservation slip to the ranger. 

The ranger, raising one beautifully red leather-covered index finger of his right hand, cautioned "One moment please."

The ranger pulled out a clipboard. From where he produced that clipboard, no one still knows. He thumbed through the pages. He found our names on his list. 

"There you are!" Ranger Bowdy bellowed with a chuckle. "What a beautiful campsite you have chosen. So secluded too" he said offering me a knowing wink. 

He handed us a small folded map of the Cape Disappointment camping grounds. 

"If you need anything there is a ranger here 24/7. Okay? Have a nice time. Thank you for not pointing out that I said Camp Disappointment instead of Cape Disappointment. I do that all the time" he smiled as he shrugged his shoulders. 

The ranger turned, pushed down on one end of the wooden barricade. The barricade lifted up, allowing us to pass. 

"Thank you!" Clementine and I sing said in unison, and in perfect harmony, as we drove off into the park, waving our happy face waves again.

Chapter 4: Where the Road leads

The trail leading into the park was crooked. It wound through the woods awkwardly. It had more twists, turns, and off shoots than an Agatha Christie novel. I asked Clementine to look at the map for directions. Clementine fumbled around looking for the park map. I navigated more and more turns. More and more off shoots passed by as I drove ever deeper into the woods. I grew increasingly anxious. 

"Did you find it?" I asked. 

Clementine didn't respond. She continued shuffling through papers looking for the map. 

"We just got it. How can it be lost already?" I blurted out. 

Clementine's shuffling of papers ceased instantaneously. An eery dark air of deafening silence washed over the interior of our car. The temperature inside the car plummeted like a turkey dropped off Pike's Peak. Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled. I somewhat expected to see Rod Serling to step out from behind any tree ahead. 

Clementine's eyes slowly rose to meet mine. I glanced alternatively between Clementine and the road ahead. I offered her a loving smile. Her lips did not mirror mine. She didn't look right. My beautiful partner. My soulmate. My everything. My world. She looked different now. An air of evilness swirled around her like a jack knife tornado around a Tennessee truck stop. 

"Are you insinuating that I have lost the map?" asked Clementine's cold, emotionless voice. 

Her eyes no longer sparkled. Here eyes appeared as dead, black, and emotionless. They were not windows to her soul anymore. They now were pitch black portals that led directly into the deepest pits Hell. Where once delightful sparkles danced, now two evil black, lifeless sunken pools of deep despairing hatred that resided on either side of her slightly upturned button nose. Do you know how sometimes it's almost irresistible to point out the obvious but you don't do it because you know better? This was not one of those times for me.

I instantly replied, "Well, you had it last." 

Even as the words fell from my lips, I knew I should try to suck them back in. But it was too late. Like a June Bug heading directly towards the seductively slanted windshield of a 69 Stingray speeding down the highway, their imminent fate was inevitable. It was not going to be pretty. I was not wrong. She did have the map last. I could actually feel the temperature of my right cheek soaring ever higher as her eyes burned a hole into my face.

"You look for it then!" Clementine snapped. 

In a huff, she folded her arms tightly across her chest. She stared out the passenger window with all the intensity of a magnifying glasses burning beam on a passing ant. I feared for the ants. I feared for me. The last thing you need is a shovel when you are trying to get out of a hole. Why I chose to dig deeper that day, nobody knows. But I did. 

"I'm driving here. Can you see that I am driving?" Yeah, I actually said that. 

I even made the hands on the wheel motioning gesture. Again, I was not wrong. I was driving. In retrospect, maybe that wasn't the best time to point out my being correct.

In a voice that would have made a charging grizzly proud, Clementine growled her advice to me "Pull the car over! Look for the map yourself!" 

I was in shock that such a terrifying sound could come from my little sweetie pie. I did as ordered. I pulled the car over. The car stopped. Clementine threw her door open. She leapt out of the the car with the ferocity of a leopard pouncing on a baby gazelle. She violently planted herself on the rear bumper of the car. The entire car shook from her planting. As the car still rocked, I rummaged through the papers looking for the park map. I found the map quickly. I thought it best not to gloat about my quick success. I pretended to look for the map longer than needed. 

In as sweet a voice as I could muster I sang out "Here it is sweetie. I found it. It had fallen into the back seat. That's why you couldn't find it Pumpkin." 

It had not fallen into the backseat. It was right there next to her the whole time. Silence was her reply. I cautiously opened my door. I walked toward the rear of the car.

Perched on the rear bumper like a starving vulture over a dead moose, was the love of my life. She was crimson faced, hunched over, and snarling. There may or may not have been steam rising off the top of her head. It may have been forest fog. No one is sure which it was that day. My lilting, lyrical, carefree, daisy faced, breath of summer happiness had turned sour. The delight of my life, who was sitting next to me mere moments previously, was gone. "See?" I cautiously offered the gargoyle-like Clementine the map. 

"Well whoopie for you! Good job Magellan!" was Clementine's caustic, snippy, sarcastic reply.

 She turned. She stomped back towards the front of the car. Her footprints in the road are still there to this day. 

With both of us seated back in the car now, I looked at the map. 

"I think we're fine" I offered happily raising the map for Clementine to see. 

Clementine did not see. Her gaze remained downwards. Not once did she look towards me or the map. 

"We were going the right way the whole time Sweetie Pumpkin" I offered gleefully. "Good job navigator!" I said in praise of Clementine's efforts. 

With the mechanical precision of an owl rotating its head slowly, determinatively, Clementine's face finally looked towards me briefly, silently. I immediately missed her staring downward face. 

"Really?" replied Clementine's did you really just dare to say that to me sarcastic voice. 

I longed for her deadly silence once again.

I gently placed the car into gear. I smiled an appeasing, conciliatory smile at Clementine. Clementine did not see my smile. Only her left ear saw my generous offering. It did not respond in kind. I silently edged the vehicle forward. Deeper and deeper into the woods we went. I've never felt so alone as I did right then. The ranger was right. Our campsite was at the very end of the deepest road into the woods. It was far away from the other campsites. It was serenely secluded. It could have been a beautiful, romantic spot for young lovers. Hopefully it still would be. It was going to take some work to repair this situation. I was sure I could do it. After parking the car, I started to unload our supplies. Clementine stayed in the car. The thought of asking her if she was going to help unpack the car crossed my mind but this time I didn't say it. See? I had learned. Smooth and cool was my game plan. If I had to do all the work, so be it.

I did do all the work. I unloaded the entire car. I set up the tent. I started the fire. I started getting dinner ready. I placed two folding chairs very close to each other beside the golden campfire. The setting was very romantic. The golden, glowing campfire scented the air. The sun was slowly setting over the lake. I gathered the pots and pans to cook dinner. Clementine had finally gotten out of the car. She had moved one of the chairs. She had moved her chair to the opposite side of the campfire. It was as far away from my chair as physically possible. It was the same as how you can only walk halfway into the woods. Once beyond the halfway point, you are walking out of the woods. That's how far apart she placed our chairs. She was out of the car. It was progress. I said nothing about the chairs. "Baby steps" I kept thinking silently to myself over and over.

I started to cook dinner. I offered small talk here and there as I cooked. Slowly Clementine began answering me. Her voice was still cold and emotionless. But she was finally talking to me again. It was baby steps but still it was progress. My plan had taken root. It was working. The more we talked the more Clementine's mood seemed to lighten. 

"I am good" I silently told myself. 

Clementine got to the point where she would laugh and giggle, every so often. 

I thought to myself "How good am I? Scary good! That's how good I am.""

One time when Clementine was giggling, I looked up at her. You know how sometimes it looks like someone is looking towards you but not really at you? When someone is kind of looking past, through, or behind you? That's what I saw when I looked at Clementine. Not wanting to appear a jerk, I ignored it. It seemed to keep happening more and more. I couldn't spin around to see what was going on behind me that had captivated her attention. I had to devise a clandestine plan. There! There on the ground before me was a shiny mirror-like pot lid! I could use that to see behind me without turning around. I casually leaned forward. I took the shiny lid in my hand. Cooks held pot lids in their hands all the time. It was natural. It is what cooks do. I continued the small talk as I casually looked down at the top of the pot lid.

Clementine started to giggle again. I ceased upon the moment to move the lid into position. With some small adjustments, I saw it. There! Right in the pot lid I saw a reflection. My eyes at first did not believe what I was seeing. I fell silent. I stared intently at the pot lid. Clementine kept giggling. I can't be seeing what I thought I saw. Clementine continued to smile and giggle, but not at me. Clementine was now in full flirt mode. But alas I was right, it was not towards me. It was towards what I was seeing, or thought I was seeing in the pot lid reflection.

I stood quickly. I spun around as fast as fast can be. I wasn't quick enough. I saw only the woods standing behind me. The deep, dark, empty woods was all I saw. Clementine shrieked! 

"What is wrong with you?" she screeched at me. 

" I was.. I thought .. I ... " I replied stammering trying to explain my behavior. 

It was in vain. 

"I hate you!" Clementine screamed at me. 

She stormed past me into the tent. She zippered the tent closed behind her. I thought I heard the tent flap slam. I don't think tent flaps can slam but I still think I heard it do so. 

"Go sleep in the car!" Clementine screeched at me from inside our tent.

Well, it was her tent now. 

"Don't you dare come near me tonight!" Clementine screeched at me. 

My evening was done. I was not good. I was not smooth nor cool. I had fixed nothing. I wondered if it had all been a hallucination. I couldn't have seen what I thought I saw. That would be insane. I resigned myself to sleep alone in the car. It was definitely a hallucination. It had to be. Our night was done. A beautiful sunset had been wasted. 

The next morning came slowly. I cautiously approached the tent to see what mood Clementine would be in after a good nights sleep. 

I called out softly "Clementine. Good morning sweetie. Are you ready for breakfast?" 

No reply came back from the tent. I started cooking. Bacon makes everything better. Hopefully the delicious wafting aroma of bacon cooking would entice Clementine from out of her tent. The bacon was done. It was crispy, delicious, and oh so aromatic. I can still smell it right now. Clementine did not emerge from the tent. I once again edged closer to the tent. 

"Sweetie, bacon's ready?" I offered. Still no response.

I was getting worried now. 

"I'm going to open the zipper of the tent now Pumpkin just to make sure you are okay. Okay?" I winced a little while asking that. 

I slowly grasped the zipper thing to open it. I raised the zipper thing higher and higher. The tent's zipper was now completely open. I slowly parted the tent flaps to peer inside. The tent was empty. There was nothing inside the tent. Clementine was gone.

Chapter 5: Reflection

I checked the car. No Clementine. I searched the nearby woods. No Clementine. I didn't want to leave the campsite but I needed help. I jumped into the car. I raced down to the guard shack. I quickly told Ranger Bowdy, yeah he was still there, that Clementine was missing. We both raced back to the campsite together. Ranger Bowdy put out a call on his radio for help. Dozens of people were soon swarming the campsite and surrounding woods.

One particular person from the crowd stood out to me. He was dressed in tanned buckskin from head to toe. He was tall. He wore a large cowboy sort of, but not really a cowboy, leather hat. It had things dangling from it in the back. He walked slower and more deliberately than the others. He had an air of confidence about him. I saw Ranger Bowdy talking to the tall, leather clad stranger. The ranger shook his head. He was obviously disagreeing with whatever the leather clad stranger was saying to him. Ranger Bowdy left to speak to another. I casually approached the tall leather clad, cowboy sort of, stranger.

Before I could speak, the leather clad stranger looked me up and down slowly. 

"You the one? The one, the camper who lost his lady?" the stranger knowingly asked me. 

"Yes," I replied "May I ask your name?" I asked him. 

The stranger replied "They call me Mule-Eye Merl" he said with a smirk. 

I didn't know what to do in response so I applauded. He seemed to like that. 

"I'm a tracker" Mule-Eyed Merl offered next. 

"That's great!" I said "We need a tracker!" 

"Um hmmm" replied Merl "I see." 

"What can I do? How can I help you find her?" I asked eagerly. 

Merl sat down on one of the chairs next to the fire pit. 

"Tell me everything that happened here last night. Leave out nothing" said Merl matter-of-factly.

I proceeded to tell Merl everything that happened the night before. Merl sat silently as I told my tale. He did not interrupt me once as I told my story. He did not ask me a single question. When I was finished my story, Merl looked me eye to eye. He did not blink. He asked me one single question. 

"What did you see?" he asked. 

"What did I see when?" I replied. 

"When you looked into the pot lid. What did you see? Merl asked again. 

"I ... I thought I saw something but I only imagined it" I said trying to laugh it off. 

Merl leaned closer to me. Staring at me with his unblinking eyes he asked again 

"What did you see?" 

"I can't say that. You'll think me crazy. No, I can't tell you that." I answered shaking my head side to side.

 Merl leaned in even closer to me "I know what you saw son. It's okay. Tell me." 

"How could you know what I saw? I mean what I thought I saw but I didn't really see? How could you know that?" I asked.

Merl leaned back. He put his hands on his thighs. A frown crossed his lips. He looked down at the ground. He twisted his boot on the ground, digging a little hole with the toe of his boot. 

Without looking up at me he said "You guys got into an argument, right?" 

I nodded yes. 

"The quarrel continued on into the night but somehow it seemed to be getting better, right?" Merl asked. 

I nodded yes again. "How could he know all this?" I thought to myself.

"But it wasn't really getting better, not with you anyway, right?" Merl said. 

I nodded yes again.

"You know, I wasn't always a tracker," said Merl kicking the dirt in front of him. "In my younger days, I had the same hopes and dreams as everyone else. I wanted a good job, a nice home, a beautiful wife, six or seven kids and I'd have the world by the tail. All would be well. I'd have a happy life. But things rarely work out the way you had hoped. You see, I too had found the love of my life. We were expecting a baby together" said Merl. 

My mouth dropped open "We were expecting a baby too" I gasped. 

Merl nodded knowingly "We decided to take a little trip, a vacation of sorts. A camping trip."

My eyes opened wider. This was getting creepy.

"In fact, we came to this very same camping spot many years ago. It changed my life forever." Merl slowly stood up. 

He looked down at me.

"What did you see reflecting in the pot lid?" Merl asked me once again. 

"I saw ..." I stammered. "I saw ... I saw peeking from behind a tree ... I saw ... I saw Bigfoot making goo-goo eyes at my baby!" I finally blurted out. 

"That bass turd did the same thing to me!" shouted Merl "He stoled my baby too! That's why I became a tracker. I hunt him still." 

"I lost my darling Clementine but she's not forgotten" I declared to Merl "Where can a guy get some quality tracker clothes? I see a career change in my near future."

And that's just how it happened. I joined Merl. Together we track those woods trying to find the bass turd that stoled our babies. We're still searching them there woods to this here very day.


"That is an amazing story!" exclaimed Brighton "Thank you for sharing it with me. But if you're still searching those woods for Bigfoot how did you become a top-selling recording artist?"


I smiled slowly at Brighton. I replied "That Brighton Early is a story for another day" as I slowly rose to my feet.

The nearby doorway darkened. A large buckskin-clad gentleman in a sort of, but sort of not, leather cowboy hat poked his head in the room. 

"You ready to get back to it?" he asked. 

"I am" I replied "I am." 

I pulled my buckskins and large sombrero like, but not really a sombrero, out of the dressing room closet. 

"I'll be right with you."

Rate this content
Log in

More english story from Nikolas Thornton

Similar english story from Drama