Nobody Loves a Bigfoot Like a Bigfoot Babe (12 page)

BEFORE LEAVING HIS CABIN that night, Duane shooed his Bigfoot friends outside. He snatched up all his tequila and rushed into the kitchen.

Most kitchens are instantly recognizable as places to prepare food-not Duane's kitchen. Although it had a sink and an old-fashioned range, the rest of the available space was cluttered with boxes stacked to the ceiling. The boxes were labeled with various food stuffs—canned beans. canned sausage and beans, canned chili beans, canned curried beans and canned tuna. Duane never had the time to cook a meal, and why should he—he always ate out at Abe's, Annie's or at one of his nightly stop-offs for you-know-what.

In a brief moment of clarity, Duane decided to hide all his booze from Maaawooo, who had a strong liking for the stuff. He knew that while he was away, Maaawooo might search the cabin for more booze, something he had a habit of doing. So Duane opened the walk-in pantry. He walked in and pulled a lever. A trap door fell open from the ceiling.

Most of the available space was taken up by an array of bottles marked skunk, deer musk, grizzly piss and essence of Bigfoot. An empty plastic cleaner sprayer lay next to the bottles.

Duane slid the tequila into the tiny crawl space which was not big enough for a Bigfoot, not even for Duane. He was confident his Bigfoot friends would never think to look in the roof space.

But Duane's moment of clarity suddenly left him as it often did. In one of his frequent absent-minded episodes, he forgot to padlock the pantry door before he had left to go into town that night.

* * *

THE COAST WAS CLEAR as all three Bigfoot stood facing the walk-in pantry. Maaawooo and Teeelaaa were impatient as Olaaa squeezed in. It was cramped inside the pantry. Every time she turned, she knocked something off a shelf. Flour, peanut butter and various contents of fruit jars covered the floor. Olaaa's footprints were clearly visible in the sticky mess that now resembled a cake mix.

From inside the pantry she looked out, shaking her head to indicate she couldn't find the happy juice.

Maaawooo gave a loud grunt of dissatisfaction and snorted, "Ftftftftftft!"

Teeelaaa gave Maaawooo a comforting pat on the shoulder, "Woooo-weeee."

Olaaa didn't like to see Maaawooo looking so miserable, but what could she do? She was about to step out of the pantry when she heard the clink of bottle striking bottle-happy juice! She looked up to see the trapdoor. She tried to reach it, but was not quite tall enough.

"Ftftftftft!" Olaaa clambered up the shelves and was about to push her large hand through the trapdoor when the whole pantry collapsed. "Ftftftftftftft!"

Olaaa slid across the kitchen floor leaving a thick trail of the flour mix, along with everything not stuck to the shelves by spilled honey.

Teeelaaa and Maaawooo sniggered, "Fsfsfsfsfsfsfs."

They sniggered some more as Olaaa attempted to stand up only to fall on her hairy behind which became matted with the sticky mixture.

Olaaa slid along the floor to rub her behind clean. This brought even more laughter from her friends. She finally got to her big messy feet and looked around at the disgusting mess.

Olaaa couldn't help but join in, "Fsfsfsfsfsfs."

Teeelaaa and Maaawooo sat down in the mess and rubbed their behinds along the floor, crashing into the wooden cabinet doors, splintering them into matchsticks.

Maaawooo staggered to his feet and proudly surveyed the wrecked kitchen. He trudged over to the ruined pantry and smashed a fist through the trapdoor. He deftly caught three bottles of happy juice.

Teeelaaa snorted, "Ftftftftft!"

Maaawooo grinned, showing his large yellow teeth.

Olaaa surveyed the kitchen and saw the look on Teeelaaa. She realized what a naughty girl she was, but it was such fun being naughty. She looked longingly at the bottles in Maaawooo's hands. She tried to grab one.

Teeelaaa knew what Olaaa wanted. She put both hands to her head and moaned as if in pain to imply what would happen if Olaaa drank the happy juice.

Maaawooo turned away from Olaaa.

Olaaa tried to grab the bottles.

Maaawooo held the bottles above his head and sniggered, "Sfsfsfsfsfsf."

Olaaa jumped as high as she could, but the bottles were out of reach. She gave up and slumped to the floor, exhausted after her antics. She kicked her feet in a hissy fit.

Maaawooo skidded to the watering hole and broke a bottle top into the sink. He up-ended the entire contents down his throat. His eyes rolled with delight. He tossed the empty bottle and belched loudly. He was about to start on the other bottles when a sudden thought occurred to him. He chuckled at the delicious idea he had.

Teeelaaa and Olaaa gave Maaawooo a suspicious look. They both knew that naughty face on Maaawooo meant more trouble.

DUANE BELCHED AT WALT and said to his hunting buddies, "Howdy guys."

Chuck and Bob gave wide drunken grins and replied together, "Howdy, Duane, ol' buddy."

But Walt continued to give Duane a nasty look.

Unperturbed by Walt's unfriendly attitude, Duane gave him a brotherly pat on the shoulder.

"Walt, ol' buddy."

"Don't you 'ol' buddy' me, asshole," Walt snarled.

Duane stepped back in feigned surprise and fear. He even managed to look a little offended by what Walt had just said. He guessed that Walt wasn't in a particularly good mood, due to the fact that his boy hadn't shown up yet and maybe he was also ticked off with him for taking a pot shot at his two asswipe buddies.

"Me, an asshole? I can't think why, ol' buddy." Duane gave that stupid grin, knowing how much it would infuriate Walt.

Walt didn't reply straight away. He took a swig of his strong beer, remarking, "You'd better wipe that stupid grin off your fucking face . . . and who gave you the right to go shooting at my friends, asshole." Burp!

Duane smiled amiably at Chuck and Bob, "No harm done was there, guys?"

Chuck pushed a Bigfoot ESB bottle across the table towards Duane. "Changed your mind about that free beer?"

Duane shook his head no, "No, I haven't." He winked, "Rain check?" He looked at Walt. "They don't seem too upset about it."

Chuck and Bob nodded their heads and grinned drunkenly, "No hard feelings."

Walt gave his buddies a nasty look for sucking up to Duane, "You stupid pair of fucking asswipes."

Bob and Chuck gave each other mock fearful looks then burst out laughing.

Walt certainly did seem miffed, mused Duane. Well, serves him right for thinking he had Beau up at his cabin.

Duane smiled his amiable smile at Walt and then glanced up at the Japanese male singer on stage, now giving everyone his rendition of "
D-I-V-O-R-C-E
." Duane listened, scratching his butt for a while, before he came to the conclusion that the performer couldn't sing, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

Duane would never jeer a performer no matter how bad they were. He was reminded of one of MB's Old Indian legends that told us man who sings bad on stage has nerves of steel.

"Fucking weirdo," Walt muttered under his breath, but loud enough for Duane to hear.

Duane realized Walt was referring to him and not the performer. Walt often called him weirdo for living in that cabin of his like some hermit. A lot of Beaverites thought Duane was weird. He didn't take offense, and why should he? It wasn't that Duane was thick skinned; he accepted that everyone was entitled to an opinion, and besides he agreed with them, he was weird.

"Yeah, I guess I am a little weird," Duane said. "Aren't we all, spaceman?"

Walt visibly jolted at that remark before he took a big sniff of Duane. He wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"You stink worse than a Bigfoot turd."

Duane sniffed under his free armpit. He couldn't disagree with that. He was getting a tad ripe, despite the hose down in the low down.

Duane shrugged amiably, "No need to tell me, ol' buddy."

Walt didn't reply. He just took another mouthful of beer and gave Duane a nasty look. Burp!

Duane left the asshole and two asswipes to their beers, but not before flashing them the bird one more time. He was gratified to see Chuck and Bob hold Walt down in his chair.

MB WATCHED HIS FRIEND approaching with a welcoming smile on his face. He noticed the red smudges of lipstick on Duane's cheeks and lips. That Duane was one lucky guy.

The door opened. MB was distracted in that direction. He saw both FBI agents entering the place. They failed to look inconspicuous at the far end of the bar, trying to attract Abe's attention as Duane arrived at his table.

Jesus! Something smells really bad around here
, thought MB, as his nostrils got a sniff of something quite revolting. He looked up at his good friend and coughed. His keen olfactory senses were attuned to picking up forest smells-good or bad-before most people detected them, and this smell was by far the worst.

The air smelled musky like skunk, tainted with an earthy dampness mingled with manly odor and something else that he had occasionally got a whiff of in the woods and at Duane's cabin. But what that mysterious something was he could not say. It didn't smell exactly like grizzly or skunk, but the smell could be likened to grizzly piss and skunk spray. Most of all the smell reminded MB of the Phantom Bigfoot-rotten eggs.

"Howdy, Chief," Duane said with his trademark smile as he sat down opposite the chief, facing the stage. He placed his Bigfoot head on the table and took a mouthful of beer straight from the bottle offered to him. He savored it with a look of relief.

He burped.

"You're late, as usual," MB commented in an inoffensive, casual tone of voice.

An attractive barmaid with distinctive bright red hair was close by. She wore a short skirt and see-through t-shirt revealing ample breasts.

MB attracted the barmaid, "A pitcher of ESB and two whisky chasers, Tina."

Tina winked at MB, but started to cough. She rushed away as Duane's stink defiled her nostrils.

Duane took another sip of his light beer and sniffed his armpits.

MB took a whiff of the air just to be sure it was his ol' buddy stinking up the place with his pungent odor.
Phew-stinky
, he thought! He gave Duane a look of disgust and wrinkled his nose, but didn't say anything, as Duane often smelled bad.

DUANE LOOKED AWAY FROM the stage and noticed the look on MB's face. He recognized that look of disgust. He sniffed the air, then himself, paying particular attention to his armpits.

"I want you to be totally honest . . . do I stink that bad?" Duane chuckled as MB nodded yes. "Well it's mostly just manly odor." He gave himself another sniff, "I had a hose down, but I can't quite figure it. . . I still stink."

"When was the last time you washed them Bigfoot duds?"

Duane shrugged and took another mouthful of beer. He looked thoughtful as he mulled over what MB had just asked him, scratching his ass.

"Can't be sure . . ."

Tina dropped off the pitcher and chasers before rushing off without her usual tip. "That's so gross!"

Duane shrugged at Tina's cute ass now knowing why she had left so abruptly.

Duane filled both tall glasses with ESB. Clinked MB's before downing the ale in one go. Both friends followed with the chasers.

Duane let rip a loud burp. "That'll get the lower motor going for you-know-what."

"Better not waste any exhaust fumes before it's time." MB warned.

"Not to worry, I'll clench them in." Duane crossed his legs as if that would do the trick. "Did you know the human fart is pure methane gas?"

"Duh … everyone on the planet knows that. But did you know there's a theory gaining momentum that the dinosaurs gassed themselves to death with their farts?"

"And did you know … and this is a fact by the way … when the warp engines on those Star Trek ships run low on anti-matter they have to resort to recycling their poop which gives off methane gas. The engineers convert it into anti-fart?"

MB gave Duane a look of pure awe in the presence of such stupidity. "I bet that's what Walt got up to when he was abducted …" MB's words trailed off at the sight of the Feds approaching. He nudged Duane to look behind him.

Duane turned to see the Feds closing in on Walt's table and became misty-eyed at the sight of his old friend.

MB called out to Walt, "Hey, shit-for-brains, did you pump out those aliens' toilets for them?"

Walt jumped to his feet. Chuck and Bob grabbed him and forced him back to his chair.

"Hey, Willy!" Duane shouted, waving to Willis.

Walt grabbed Willis by the arm, causing both agents to stop in their tracks.

"This might be fun," MB sniggered.

"Huh . . . Bob and Chuck thought I was a Bigfoot again. It was close . . . real close. Those asswipes never learn."

"You've only got yourself to blame," MB chuckled. "Old Indian legend tells us man who dresses up in Bigfoot duds is likely to be displayed as a trophy on hunter's wall."

"I think, as my friend, you could show some concern for my safety," Duane said with a cheeky smile.

"Well, what do expect wandering about the woods dressed up as Bigfoot?"

Duane didn't reply as his attention was diverted to the Japanese performer as he bowed to his audience and left the stage. He applauded. The decibels were momentarily reduced to a level enabling him to hear what was going on at Walt's table. He agreed with MB, this could get interesting as Walt held onto Willis' arm.

"Can I buy you and the little woman a beer?" Walt asked in a slurred voice.

Bob and Chuck had a fit of the giggles as they noticed Merlot stiffening to the little woman remark.

"No thanks, Walt . . . we're on duty." Willis said curtly.

Walt glared at Willis. "No one refuses a free beer in this town, asshole-no fucking one."

Willis gave a disgruntled grunt. His cheeks took on a pinky hue.

"Let go of my arm, Walt."

"What're you goin' to do about it?"

Willis gave Walt a cold smile. "It has occurred to me that you put your son up to this disappearing act."

Walt heard childish giggling. He glanced over at Duane and MB who were looking in his direction.

"If anyone has my put my boy up to this, it's that asshole over there." Walt pointed to Duane.

Duane waved at Walt then gave him the bird. He was gratified to see the look of anger on Walt's face.

"Let go of my arm," Willis said with menace.

Instead, Walt tightened his hold.

In response, Willis grabbed Walt's little finger and snapped it back, but not enough to break it.

Walt released Willis' arm and fell backwards off his chair.

Bob, Chuck, Duane, MB and Merlot had a sudden bout of giggles at Walt's expense.

Walt spat on the floor, just missing Willis' regulation, shiny, black leather shoes. He rubbed his painful pinky as he got to his feet and picked up his chair.

"I knew you'd sink so low the FBI would take you in." Walt laughed at his own comment. He took a hefty swig of beer. He belched loudly at Willis as he sat back down.

Walt gave his hunting buddies a nasty look for laughing at him.

They ignored the asshole and laughed some more.

Merlot tugged on Willis' arm and directed him away from Walt.

But Walt jumped up from his chair and poked Willis in the shoulder.

"Fuck you, Willis Johnson," Walt raged.

Willis clenched his fists but kept them at his sides. He fixed Walt with his ice-blue eyes. He felt another firm tug on his arm and finally relented to Merlot.

"Meeeow-meeeeow," Walt teased.

The smile on Duane's face widened as both agents loomed over his table.

"If it isn't my old buddy, Willis," he said in a voice choked with emotion.

"Hello, Duane," Willis said rather coolly.

To any observer it would seem that Willis no longer thought of Duane as his old buddy.

Duane wiped the tears from his eyes. He got up from his chair and grabbed hold of a surprised Willis in a bear hug.

Willis gagged and struggled to be free. "Get away from me!"

Duane realized his awful stink was too much for his old friend to stomach. But Duane kept a firm hold on him. And without giving a damn what other people said or thought he planted a big kiss on Willis' cheek.

"Love you, man."

"About that let . . . " Willis started to choke on the pungent odor. He was rendered speechless.

After some moments of manly hugging, Duane let go of Willis.

"Knew you'd come back," Duane said with tears running down his face. He noticed the ravishing beauty next to Willis and went to hug her.

Merlot looked aghast and stepped back from the stench that was Duane. She offered her hand rather reluctantly.

Duane shook Merlot's hand then cheekily kissed it.

Merlot snatched her hand back with revulsion.

"You must be Duane Dexter . . . stinky, but cute for driftwood," Merlot said out loud.

Duane frowned at MB. "Driftwood?"

MB shrugged.

Willis gave his partner a sharp look, "Keep your thoughts to yourself, Agent Merlot."

"Yes, massah," Merlot teased. She gave MB a come-on wink as she sat down next to him. She took a mouthful of beer from his glass. "This is good stuff."

Merlot ignored the disparaging look Willis gave her and sipped more of MB's beer.

Duane sat back down in his chair and wiped more tears from his eyes. He took a mouthful of beer and looked lovingly at his old friend over the rim of his beer bottle.

MB gave Duane a reassuring pat on the back of his hand and commented, "Old Indian legend tells us that man whose friend comes back home after many years away should give friend a big hug and a kiss."

"Willy!" Duane tearfully exclaimed. "Take a load off." Duane kicked a chair from the table.

Willis remained serious and on his feet. "If you insist on calling me by my first name . . . then it's Willis."

"Oops," Duane apologized. "Still touchy about being called Willy, I see. How could I forget, ol' buddy? Sorry." Duane gave a wide smile. "We've got a lot of catching up to do, Willis." He emphasized Willis.

Willis sat down rather stiffly. He avoided looking Duane in the eyes.

It seemed obvious to Duane that Willis was feeling guilty and owed him an apology for the way he'd left Big Beaver. And not once in all the years Willis had been away had he tried to contact Duane by letter or phone. Duane had every right to be hurt, but couldn't help being overjoyed at seeing Willis again.

A thought crossed Duane's mind . . . what did Lou think about her old love coming back to town? She might want to inflict injury on Willis for ditching her the way he did. Well, he's got it coming if she does.

There was something else, something at the back of his mind, but his brain fog wouldn't allow that something to surface. He had a feeling he'd forgotten something very important concerning Willis. He scratched his butt to get his brain in gear, but nothing would come to mind.