Grumpy Old Sasquatches
By Anonymous
"Your feet's too big!
Don't want ya 'cause your feet's too big!
Can't use ya 'cause your feet's too big!
I really hate ya 'cause your feet's too big!"
"Oooooh, your podalic extremities are colossal!
To me you look like a fossil!
You got me walkin', talkin' and squawkin',
'Cause your feet's too big, yeah!"
--
Alright. So, I suppose you never heard of a Sasquatch that can write, oh
ye
of the Little Feet? Yes, you, I do mean you, who sit there even now as we
speak, with this little book in your hands wondering if what you think to
see on this page might be nothing more than something that's been
disagreeing with you since brunch, from what you ate in that up-scale
yuppie
restaurant--an ergot infested pumpernickel bread stick, or something that
the oyster you ate, ate?
Forget it. This is no hallucination. But could it be that some of you
have
never heard of us in terms of the nomenclature of "Sasquatches" at all,
and
know us only by the ridiculous moniker you humans have made up for us
namely, "California Bigfoot"?
Whatever! Okay, lets chill. Go ahead and pop yourself a can of Hammes or
Moosehead while we're talking here, eh? And . . . what? You're thinking, a
Canadian accent for a Sasquatch--how typical! Right. Go ahead and make a
big
deal out of it. And while you are doing that, I'll just get on with some
very necessary "suspension of disbelief" business here, since there is
sure
to be many a skeptic out there with the idea starting to bloom, that you
really are not reading something written by a Sasquatch, but by somebody
who
just gets some kind of thrill out of pulling people's legs, right down to
their two tiny little feet attached at the end of them.
Too bad you can't see my feet, eh? Then--oh, what? You want a book with
pictures in it? In this day of the computer age when any kind of fakery
can
be made to look real, photographically? I mean, how dumb do you suppose a
Sasquatch might be, that he wouldn't know about Microsoft Photo Shop?
C'mon, eh? Have another Moosehead and mellow out while we get on with the
memoir at hand.
Contrary to popular belief, we "abominable snowmen" have not been around,
here in the eco-system of planet earth for so long as some people are
given
to theorize, what with all these nefarious rumors going round about how a
creature like me has been seen to pop up in the folklore of the various
Native American nations of the Pacific Northwest?
No way! You look into those re****ts, and you'll find out that the Indians
have old fables about just about anything going around on two, four or six
legs, except specifically what meets the description that people in
California have been re****ting as per their sundry sightings.
Believe it or not, its been only since the days of the California Gold
Rush
around mid-nineteenth century, that creatures such as myself have come to
be
afoot in this world, due to a very strange accident of mating and mutation
of genes between--freakish as it may seem--a certain outrageously
beautiful
Digger Indian maid named, "Waterfall Laughing", a gold miner and
prospector
known by all the folk of Siskiyou County as "Horn Toad" Harry Haggardy and
a
big old Brown Bear named "Barry".
Now I know this has been getting to be just about what you could call "a
bit
much" for anyone to be taking in all at once like this, for the first
chapter of a book of memoirs from a Sasquatch, and so we will bring it to
a
close, putting the gritty evolutionary details of that amorous Close
Encounter of a very California Kind off to its appropriate place on a
forthcoming page.
But let it suffice, before moving on from these introductory matters, for
it
to be said that the primary purpose that I, a so-called "abominable
snowman"
have for finally "coming out of the closet" as it were, after this
arguably
'brazen' fa****on, to be combing my fur and putting on deodorant, so to
speak, in order *to* speak at all, face to face in the first place to you
of
the Little Feet--well, let us just say that it's political. Not that I
have
it in mind to be running for high office or anything so threatening as
that
to the "glass ceiling" that has been set by this society above a person of
my shoe size, but that this would be, yes to come streaking out of the
forest, hairy-butt ****d on to the public scene, to say, "We're here!
We're
far weirder than queer, and so deal with it!"
--
JM http://whosenose.blogspot.com
http://jesu***egesis.blogspot.com
--
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