Nobody Loves a Bigfoot Like a Bigfoot Babe

by Simon Okill

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.

  "Duane . . . we'd like to ask you a few questions," Willis stated in his regulation, matter-of-fact tone of voice.

  Willis continued to sit stiff-backed with a serious look on his face while Merlot was a little too relaxed, helping herself to a handful of salted peanuts from a bowl while ogling MB.

  After several moments of studying his old friend over the rim of his glass, Duane remarked, "So you're on Beau's case."

  Willis nodded his head slightly to indicate yes.

  Duane glanced over at Walt and saw him still glaring in their direction with a hostile look on his face.

  "You know Walt will never forgive you, Willis," Duane mused.

  Willis shrugged, "Fuck him."

  Merlot looked askance at Duane and frowned, "Forgive Willis for what?"

  Duane opened his mouth to reply.

  Willis quickly cut him off, "Nothing you need to know about. It's not relevant to the case."

  Merlot didn't push the matter, giving her partner a questioning look then glancing over at Walt.

  Walt was still looking in their direction and pointing an unfriendly finger at them.

  Duane glanced back at Walt and gave him the bird. Duane was gratified to see Walt visibly jolt.

  "No, he certainly hasn't forgi
ven you, Willis, old friend. You'd think after all these years your family and his would let bygones be bygones."

  The puzzled look on Merlot's face deepened. "After all these years?" She looked for an answer from MB, "Do tell."

  MB opened his mouth to enlighten the bewildered FBI agent.

  Willis quickly cut him off, too. "Shut it, if you know what's good for you, Mocking Bird."

  MB folded his arms across his chest. "Old Indian legend tells us man who doesn't keep his mouth shut sticks his big foot in it."

  Merlot looked even more perplexed.

  Duane sensed there was tension at his table, and all of it was emanating from Willy. As he recalled, Willy could always be a little uptight and a little too quick to lose his cool. Now that he was older, those undesirable traits had gone up a few notches.

  "Walt's family founded the town at the same time Willis' family did. The feud started over its name." Duane saw the angry glare on Willis and continued. "Even the Johnsons knew their name was inappropriate so the river's name was used."

  "But welcome to Flucker has a nice ring to it, don't you think?" Merlot said, suppressing giggles.

  Duane scratched his butt as he thought for a moment. He looked mischievously at Willis, "Oh yeah."

  "Enough with the Flucking history lesson!" Willis glared at Duane. "Just for the record . . . have you seen anyone in the woods who you thought was acting out of the ordinary?"

  "I keep a close look out for undesirables and such like . . . none of which I have seen recently." Duane smiled proudly to himself. "Gotta take care of my woods, you know. So many people these days got no respect for nature."

  MB remained with his arms folded over his chest, and exclaimed in a serious tone, "Old Indian legend tells us that man who disrespects nature will only have fools for friends."

  That was a good one, agreed Duane. That should keep the agents' thoughts rattling around in confusion. He had to admire MB for his moralistic depth-real fucking deep, man.

  Willis gave MB a nasty glance then abruptly asked, "Duane . . . do we need a warrant to search your place?"

  Duane was hurt. Why would his old friend need a warrant? As long his Bigfoot friends were nowhere in sight, Willy could drop in any time.

  "Be my guest, Willis. My home is your home. But why do you want to search my place?"

  "Because we and certain people in town . . ." He gave Walt a glance. ". . . Suspect you might be hiding the boy up at your cabin." Willis wasn't smiling. "After all, you've got a reputation for pulling pranks."

  So what if he did have a reputation for pulling pranks; but to think he might be foolish enough to hide Beau at his cabin was ludicrous indeed. Duane contemplated the notion for a moment with his brow furrowed and an irresistible urge to scratch his butt, but he'd done so much thinking of late with his butt finger that he was getting tired of thinking. He needed to rest his brain whichever end that was at. He sighed heavily as he could see why the FBI agents thought he might be hiding the boy.

  "Feel free to drop in anytime you like," he smiled. "But if I'm not in, then you can't see me . . . and sometimes when I am in you can't see me . . . but when I'm out, you can call on me." Duane chuckled at the puzzled look on Willis' face. "Lighten up, Willis. Lou doesn't seem to think I've got anything to do with Beau going missing."

  With those prophetic words, Duane glanced over at the empty stage. "That's it . . . time for more live entertainment."

  BOTH AGENTS REMAINED SEATED as they watched Duane take his Bigfoot head onto the stage where his guitar waited.

  Duane tested the microphone by blowing a raspberry into it. A spotlight shone down on him like a silvery moon.

  MB stood a few paces behind Duane, looking casual with his hands in his pockets. He also had a microphone in front of him.

  The audience continued to chatter. The sound of clinking glasses continued. But most of the audience's attention was focused on the stage while they waited for Duane to break into his signature Bigfoot song.

  "Can the idiot sing?" Merlot asked.

  "He seems to think so," Willis replied.

  Duane tapped the microphone, "Hi folks. It's us again-Duane-o the Bigfoot and the Chief."

  Duane began to strum his guitar.

  MB drew close to his microphone in readiness.

  Duane burst into song:

  "Nobody loves a Bigfoot, like a Bigfoot Babe,

  Nobody likes a Bigfoot, until he's been laid,

  Big and hairy,

  He's a Sasquatch."

  MB joined in, "He's a Sasquatch."

  Duane continued to sing, "Big and hairy,

  He loves his snatch,

  They roam the land of woods and trees,

  Plagued by bugs and pesky fleas."

  MB joined in, "bugs and pesky fleas."

  Duane continued to sing, "but all he wants is the birds and

  bees."

  MB burst into chorus with Duane.

  "I'm a Bigfoot, I'm a Bigfoot,

  Nobody loves a Bigfoot,

  Like a Bigfoot babe."

  The audience applauded and stamped their feet to the rhythm.

  MERLOT CLAPPED HER HANDS and smiled. She glanced over at her partner and saw the slightest smile on his face. Agent Tightass was starting to melt.

  Duane broke into a further rendition of his theme song,"Nobody loves a Bigfoot, like a Bigfoot babe."

  A sudden clatter of chairs and loud male voices caused Merlot to look over her shoulder. She watched with rising apprehension as a fight broke out between two men in the audience. The fight spilled over onto another table. In moments, several more of the audience began to throw random punches at the nearest person. Even a few of the women got involved in a tussle, tugging their hair and screaming and kicking.

  Merlot looked back to the stage.

  Unperturbed by the fray, the song continued—

  "I'm a Bigfoot,

  I'm a Bigfoot,

  Nobody loves a Bigfoot,

  Like a Bigfoot Babe."

  Several empty beer bottles flew across the stage. Duane and MB expertly dodged the projectiles aimed at them.

  The Japanese tourists excitedly watched the fracas and clicked away with their cameras, shouting, "Banzai-Banzai-Banzai!"

  With an alarmed look on her face, Merlot surveyed the barroom brawl. She looked to her partner.

  "Um . . . shouldn't we do something?"

  "No need. Leave it to the law." Willis looked at his watch. "They'll be here any second now," he said somewhat confidently.

  What the fuck was going on, thought Merlot, raising a quizzical eyebrow on hearing this reply.

  Suddenly, a chair flew past Merlot's head and shattered against the wall behind her. Things were getting a bit too rough. She looked at Willis and saw that his attention was focused on Walt and the broken leg of a chair in Walt's hand. Merlot placed a hand to her gun, concealed within her jacket.

  Like some caveman, Walt was waving the chair leg in a hostile manner directed at Willis.

  Walt's beer-guzzling companions tried to hold him back.

  Instinctively, Merlot unsnapped the harness from the butt of her gun. She didn't plan on using it on Walt. Just let him see she meant business. She looked all around the barroom and focused on the stage.

  While the barroom brawl went on unabated, Duane and MB continued to sing though they were off key and a tad distracted by the fracas and flying beer bottles.

  Hardly anyone seemed to be listening to them now.

  Duane shrugged his shoulders, stopped singing and slung his guitar off. He glanced at MB. Wordless communication passed between them.

  MB nodded his head in agreement and announced to all, "Okay folks, you asked for it."

  Duane spoke into the microphone, "Time for the Awesome Asshole to strike again."

  With an amused look, Merlot watched Duane turn his back to the audience and drop his Bigfoot duds to his knees. The glare of the spotlight reflected off his white ass making it hard for anyone not
to get a glimpse of his perfect moon.

  Heads turned in his direction, though not too many. There were a few wolf whistles from randy females.

  The Japanese clicked away at Duane's perky buttocks, amid gasps of, "Banzai!"

  But the fracas continued despite the sight of Duane's white ass up on stage.

  For a brief moment, the sight of Duane's dumb ass had the desired effect of distracting Walt and Willis.

  Walt sneered at the hideous sight. He relaxed his fighting stance and lowered the chair leg. "Not again . . . what an asshole."

  This is just too much, Merlot mused. She burst into childish giggling at the sight of Duane's hairy butt. She closed her jacket and relaxed a little. She quickly and furtively snapped Duane's ass with her cell phone.

  MB prompted Duane over the microphone, "It's time for the Blazing Butthole to reveal his true colors." MB offered his firelighter.

  Duane grabbed the lighter and squeezed out an almighty fart. The flame from the lighter exploded Duane's methane cloud. A three foot flame singed all the hair from his ass and caused several Beaverites to duck out of the way.

  One Beaverite wasn't quick enough. His eyebrows were seared off.

  Merlot took a snap of that, too.

  Duane looked duly satisfied. He pulled up his Bigfoot duds and turned around to look at the barroom brawl that was still in progress. The Blazing Butthole and his accomplice exchanged glances and shrugged their shoulders. They grinned mischievously at each other.

  MB looked at his invisible wrist and nodded his head. "5-4-3-2-1," he counted and then pointed at the door.

  Merlot also noticed Willis check his watch and count down the seconds. Her confused look said, What the hell is going on here?

  25

  THE IDEA RATTLING AROUND in Maaawooo's head was quite simple-he intended preparing his harem of blond Bigfoot babes for some serious wooing with the happy juice. It was easier than going through the whole mating ritual. He was in the mood for some passionate three-way woooo-woooo.

  But, as Maaawooo tried to leave the kitchen with arms raised, Olaaa hopped up and tickled his armpit. A bottle of happy juice clonked her on the head.

  "Ftftft!" she spat, rubbing her sore head and scowling at Maaawooo.