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a big foot my ass, 1500 words of the cuff about my day

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Old 03-05-2015, 12:33 PM
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Default a big foot my ass, 1500 words of the cuff about my day

now I swear the major details of this is true, but there are some parts that I don't remember all that well.

I was a little down this morning, not wanting to write at all.

After the morning chores were done, I was sitting at my desk in the library staring at a mocking empty white computer screen. My wife told me from the living room that she was bored out of her mind --- so, we braved the snow and ice and went out to the casino.

I took my usual place with my favorite Penny machine (99 lines for 33 cents). Now you'd think that with 99 possible winning combinations you'd do ok. It's just not true, it takes about an hour of winning a little and losing a lot to go through twenty bucks.

Anyway, I was just sitting there punching the button, betting 33 cents and winning two or five or nine when I got wind of the very strange smell. Clem Wilson sat down beside me and just looked at me.

I sort of smiled, identifying the smell as it were, you see Clem is a trapper and the prime cash pelt this year is skunk. Now he hadn't been sprayed but a skunk leaves a noticeable residue whether you are sprayed or not.

I spoke 'hi Clem, what's going on." (I didn't put a question mark here because I was hoping he would just move on and not answer) I punched the button a few more times waiting for him to do one or the other.

I could feel his eye on me and so I looked his way. He smiled and asked, "They say ya write stories, tat true?"

I nodded a yes, hoping he'd move on. I could smell the whiskey on his breath.

Well, he didn't continue so I went back to pushing the button.

He said, "I got a story fur ya." (Yes, Clem really does talk that way and his name is really Clem. He's a skinny man in his thirties, I guess, and got a bad beard that is in sort of islands of long red hair. Dental hygiene is something he didn't learn in school because he didn't go that YEAR).

Well, I'll take a free story from just about anyone. I punched the cash out button on the slot and got my $13.34 back. "So, what kind of story is it?" He smiled and leaned in (something I wish he hadn't done, his breath was kill-a-horse bad).

"I shot me a bigfoot."

I tried to suppress, and did a pretty good job, the smile that I felt crossing my face. "Clem, where did you shot this bigfoot?"

He shuddered a bit, "oh, no, no, no" as he wagged his finger back and forth. "Not till we has a deal."

"Ok, what kind of deal are you looking for?"

"I a-want som'in outa-it ."

"Clem, I'm not paying you for a story I don't think is real."

He was getting a little worked up, "I kin prove it!"

"Ok, do you have the body or something?"

"Ya, I do. He's dead, well, he should be dead, he fell down and he was still a moving when I last seed him but he was a dying."

"Clem, are you sure it wasn't one of those big pigs that run around up there?"

"Ya, I'm sure, it ain't no pig. It don't have straight black hair like a ham-er. It's sort of curly and it was a standing seven or eight foots tall when I shot it."

Well, I still had my doubts as you might expect but I handed him the 13.24 betting slip. "If that is enough let's go see this big foot."

He wouldn’t leave until he turned the slip into green money. I went to see where my wife was and she was winning so she wasn't about to leave, I left her the keys to the truck and told her what was happening. She said she would see me at home because as soon as she tripled her money she was leaving.

Well, her tripling her money and then going home is about the same odds as me finding a real bigfoot. "Ok, if you’re still here when I get back I'll stop."

We took Clem's truck, after he cleaned enough of the stuff out of the front seat for me to get in. He took me down an old logging road and into the national forest, then to the no trespassing sign on the border of my land.

He sort of smiled and pointed to a tightly meshed grove of Honey locusts. (You know those trees with thorns about three inches long all over them.) "He's about fifty foot in there."

This was just more than I bargained for. "Clem, if this bigfoot turns out to be one of those big hogs we are going to have one hell of a problem."

He was just nodding back and forth, "He ain't no hog, he's nine foots tall I tell ya."

"I thought you said he was six or maybe seven feet tall."

"Wells now, now that I'm closer to him I remembers he's nine maybe ten foots tall."

"Clem, you can't even see him from here."

He was back with a snap. "Neither kin you."

Well, hell, that was true. "Which way?"

He looked lost, "I don't know, I never gos on your land."

We worked our way through the thorn trees until we could see the beast, and sure enough it was not a hog.

It was the biggest damn black bear I had ever seen. "Holy shit!"

Well that yell proved to be a mistake because, it wasn't dead either. But it was pissed off.

I got scraped up pretty bad running back through those thorn trees with that pissed off wounded bear trying to eat us ass first. I got in the truck and was looking for something to use as a weapon. Clem, was throwing sticks and rocks at the bear and I was yelling as loud as I could for him to get in the damn truck.

He finally got in. We got the truck started and was turning around. When the bear got in the truck-bed he was so heavy that the little s10 truck was almost turning over as he moved from side to side. I was watching the bear when he sort of went out of frame and the missing slide of the sliding back glass came into view. All that was there was the frame and some clear duct tape.

I yelled, "You got a gun in here?"

He was stammering as he missed a shift to third. "G G G Glove-box."

I opened the glove box and got the gun, "Damn it Clem this is a 22 pistol. All it's going to do is piss him off."

"H H He's already pissed off."

“Don’t you have anything bigger.”

“30-30 behind the seat.”

I was about to try to get the 30-30 when the big paw came through the duct tape like - well like it was duct tape.

Clem slammed himself against the driver door as he pleaded for help from god, the devil or any other deity that might be listening to save his ass just one more time.

I had no choice but to try something. The bears claws went into the seat and then pulled back taking parts of the seat with it.

I shot the bear four times with the 22 and he growled and roared louder each time.

He slammed into the cab a couple of times and then just flopped down in the bed of the truck.

"Clem asked frantically, "Is he dead this time?"

I relaxed back into the seat, "God, I hope so."

We stopped the truck and got out to look after we were almost certain he was dead.

Clem pulled a jug of moonshine out from under the seat and took a big drink. He offered it to me and I took it. I turned the jug up and took a big drink. As I lowered the jug I saw the game warden, Paul, pull up.

I knew him and I hoped I could talk my way out of the very compromising position.

He walked over and looked in the back of the truck. He shook his head as to say, no no no. Then he pulled out his ticket book. "John, Clem, either of you got a permit for that bear?"

I just shook my head "nope." Clem had his hands out in front of him waiting for the cuffs.

He laughed, "Look, I saw the bear attacking you and shot it from the hill."

Clem fell to his knees, "oh, thank you Jesus."

I felt the same way but I didn't yell a thanks.

Paul told us to follow him; there was some paperwork to do.

Clem took be by the Casino three hours later. My wife was still there. I walked up behind her and asked, "still winning?"

"Yes, I'm a hundred up. Too bad you weren't lucky today."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that."

I had a wonderful day how was your.

if you're writing over your readers head - tum etiam, ut graece scribens --- the secret of success changes;the truth of failure remains constant; if you try to please everyone you will fail.

Last edited by max crash; 03-05-2015 at 03:02 PM..
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Old 03-05-2015, 03:16 PM
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Somehow... I picture you in front of the fire, calmly stroking a fresh bear rug...
I'm just bored. Slinging the first thought that comes to mind, which is often poor advise.

Courtesy of BP
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Old 03-07-2015, 01:32 PM
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I don't think they let you keep it.

Good story, but I'd have been a little testy about him shooting a bear on my land and then wanting money to tell me about it.
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Old 03-07-2015, 01:38 PM
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you're right they don't let you keep it.

but they did let us go with very little explanation and no fine - as soon as the word bigfoot came out of Clem's mouth they wanted to let it go.

I was a little pissed, but some how the thought of seeing a Bigfoot overpowered me.

after that I was just happy to be alive.

now that doesn't mean we are not going to be the butt of many jokes

if you're writing over your readers head - tum etiam, ut graece scribens --- the secret of success changes;the truth of failure remains constant; if you try to please everyone you will fail.
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