The Sasquatch Escape (The Imaginary Veterinary) (13 page)

“Most everyone here used to work at the old button factory,” Grandpa Abe told Ben. Then he pointed to the metal box in Ben’s arms. “Whatcha got there?” He read the label. “Sasquatch Catching Kit. What are you two up to?”

“Uh…” Ben thought about making up a story, but even if he’d had an hour or two to come up with something fantastic, it wouldn’t have been better than the truth. “We’re hunting sasquatch,” he said.

“And why is Pearl holding that chocolate bar in the air?”

“Because sasquatches like chocolate,” Ben said.

“We’re supposed to keep it a secret,” Pearl hissed in Ben’s ear. “Why did you tell him?”

“Don’t worry. He’ll think it’s just one of my stories,” Ben whispered.

And sure enough, Grandpa Abe rubbed his shiny head and chuckled. “I should live so long to see a sasquatch. My grandson, the storyteller.” Then he gave Ben a gentle shove toward the pudding tables. “Go on. Eat.”

Once again, the room filled with conversation as the seniors began to discuss matters of importance, such as hip surgery, pigeon-feeding, and napping. Pearl grabbed a banana pudding cup, ripped off the top, and started eating. “I love these things,” she said as she looked around. Then she nudged Ben. “You look on that side of the room, and I’ll look on this side of the room.”

Ben took a cup of vanilla pudding, but he didn’t eat it. Instead, he sniffed the air. The wet dog scent grew stronger as he walked to the back of the room.

“Hey,” an old man said. “There’s a clump of hair in my pudding.” Ben hurried to the man’s side. Sure enough, it was a big brown clump.

Another old man, who was seated next to Maybell, opened a cup of chocolate pudding and held it under the table. “This doggy sure likes pudding,” the man said.

“I don’t know why you’re wasting perfectly good pudding on a dog,” Maybell said as she opened a new cup. “Dogs should eat dog food, not people food. And pudding is people food.”

“But it’s a nice doggy,” the man said.

Doggy?

Squatting, Ben lifted the hem of the tablecloth and peered under the table. The stench nearly knocked him over, as if he’d been smacked by a sweat-drenched sock. There, right next to a pile of empty pudding cups, was a pair of enormous, hairy feet.

B
en’s gaze traveled up a pair of hairy legs and up a hairy torso, and came to a rest on a pair of brown eyes. The eyes themselves were not hairy, but they were surrounded by hair. The sasquatch was wedged tight beneath the table. It looked at Ben. It blinked. Ben’s heart nearly stopped beating. He was face-to-face with a living, breathing bigfoot—a creature that was supposed to exist only in stories!

It looked half ape, half caveman. Its brown fur was thick and matted with sticks and leaves. Its
feet were so big they could easily fit into clown shoes. Looking at its low, sloping forehead and unibrow, Ben could see why others might think it wasn’t very smart. He stiffened, expecting it to growl or show its teeth, but instead it held out a smooth brown palm and grunted. It wanted something.

“What do…?” Then Ben remembered the warning from Dr. Woo’s guidebook about not asking a sasquatch questions. His heart pounding like a kettledrum, he cautiously reached out and handed the sasquatch his vanilla pudding cup.

It snatched the cup and, with two quick sweeps of its tongue, licked it clean. Just like Dr. Woo had written in her guidebook, the creature seemed to love sweet things.

“I can’t find it anywhere. How can a four-hundred-pound sasquatch disappear?” Pearl asked as she knelt next to Ben. “Whatcha looking at? Oh,
wow
!” Pushing aside some empty butterscotch pudding cups, Pearl squeezed between the old man’s chair and Maybell’s chair to get a better look. Then she reached out and touched the sasquatch’s leg.
It didn’t seem to mind. Ben couldn’t believe she’d touched it. Was that courage or curiosity?

“They think it’s a dog,” Ben told her as the old man tossed another cup under the table. “They can’t see very well.”

“A dog?” Pearl smiled. “That’s so funny.” She laughed. “That’s one of the funniest things I’ve ever heard.”

“Well, it won’t be funny if they find out it’s not a dog. How are we going to get it out of here?”

The sasquatch burped. Then it sniffed the air. Its brown eyes rested on the chocolate bar in Pearl’s hand. Pearl shook the bar. “You want—?”

“
Don’t
ask it questions,” Ben reminded her. Making the sasquatch angry would just complicate matters. He imagined it stomping through the senior center, old people screaming and fleeing in its wake. “Give it a piece.”

Pearl broke off a corner of the chocolate bar and tossed it. The sasquatch caught the chocolate chunk, shoved it into its mouth, and grunted again. Then it shifted onto its knees and began to crawl toward Pearl and Ben. “Dr. Woo was right,” Pearl said as she backed away. “We can tempt it with chocolate.” She shook the bar again. “Here, sasquatchy, sasquatchy.”

The creature crawled out from under the table. As it squeezed its enormous body between the two chairs, Maybell’s fell over backward. Her sensible shoes stuck up in the air. Ben scrambled to his
feet and tried to upright Maybell, but she was too heavy for him to lift.

Pearl moved quickly, waving the chocolate bar as she led the way between tables of seniors who were busy chatting and eating pudding. As the sasquatch crawled after Pearl, it knocked the seniors over like bowling pins. Chairs toppled. Pudding cups and spoons flew, as did eyeglasses, hairpieces, and a pair of dentures. “Whoa!” “Help!” “Whoopsy daisy!”

“Ben?” his grandfather called from across the room. “What’s going on over there? Is that a dog?
Oy vey!
Who let a dog in here?”

“Sorry,” Ben told Maybell, though she didn’t seem to mind being upside down. She’d found another pudding cup and was enjoying its creamy goodness. Ben wove around the flailing arms and legs, trying to catch up to Pearl and the sasquatch. Pearl had almost reached the back door. They were so close to making their escape. But Grandpa Abe had grabbed his cane and was heading straight for
Pearl. Ben’s heart thumped wildly. He needed to create some sort of distraction.

He opened the Sasquatch Catching Kit and pulled out the fog bomb. How did it work? There were no instructions attached, and even if there had been, there was no time to read them. It made fog, right? That’s why it was called a fog bomb. He took hold of the little cord that hung from the green ball. But was it safe to activate it inside a building? Maybe not. Or maybe so. Sweat dotted the back of Ben’s neck. The sasquatch stopped to lick something off the floor. Pearl jumped up and down, madly waving the chocolate bar. Grandpa Abe was getting closer and closer….

Ben didn’t mean to pull the cord. His brain was still arguing with itself about whether it was safe to activate a fog bomb inside a room, especially a room filled with very old people. But he was scared, and sometimes, when riddled with fear, the body doesn’t wait for the brain to finish its debate. And so his fingers pulled the cord.

“Uh-oh,” he whispered as a plume of fog instantly shot out of the green ball, rising straight to the ceiling. Then it spread wide, filling the senior center with an instant fog bank. Cool mist settled on Ben’s face. The scent of the sea drifted up his nostrils. The only thing missing was the sound of a foghorn in the distance. Grandpa Abe and the room itself disappeared. But so did Pearl and the sasquatch.

Everyone started talking at once. “Henrietta? Where have you gone?” “Why can’t I see anything?” “Is this a dream?” “It’s not a dream. It’s fog.” “Henrietta, I can’t find you.” “This is pudding day, not fog day.” “Where am I?” “Henrietta, I love you!”

“Ben!” Pearl called from the floor. “It’s clear down here.”

Ben dropped to his knees. He had a perfect view down there because the fog bank floated about two feet off the ground. By pushing the kit along the floor, he managed to crawl to the exit. Pearl and the sasquatch were already outside by the time he got there.

“Phew!” Ben said as the door closed behind him. “We almost got caught.”

Ben thought Pearl might say something like, “Wow, that was really smart to use that fog bomb,” but she didn’t say anything. She stood, her neck craned, staring at the sky. The sasquatch towered next to her, its face also turned upward.

Ben slowly rose to his feet. This time he didn’t wonder what sort of bird it was. This time he didn’t feel silly for thinking it was a dragon. It circled lazily, then dove behind some trees.

“It’s going to the factory,” Pearl said.

This was the first time Ben had seen the sasquatch standing at its full height. “How are we going to get it back to the factory without people seeing it?” he asked. “We don’t have another fog bomb.”

“I’m not sure,” Pearl said. “It’s huge!”

Ben didn’t know why, but he didn’t feel afraid of the gigantic beast. Maybe because it wasn’t growling at him. Or maybe because it wasn’t glaring at him. Or maybe because it was scratching one of its feet
and whimpering. Then it scratched the other foot. It whimpered, then scratched some more. “Mr. Tabby said Dr. Woo was treating it for foot fungus,” Ben remembered. “It probably needs its medicine.”

That’s when a siren’s howl filled the air. The sasquatch’s hands flew to its ears as the howl grew louder. Ben peered around the side of the senior center. Fog leaked out the front door as a Buttonville Police Force car pulled up to the curb. A woman with dark glasses stepped out. “It’s your aunt Milly,” Ben said.