Size Matters

by Robyn Peterman

  Just as I almost passed out with pleasure, I felt him stiffen on top of me. I felt his release and met it with my own. He had made me his and I had made him mine in the most intimate way possible.

  “I love you,” I whispered, running my hands through his hair and kissing his swollen lips with my own. “I think I might be dead,” I giggled as I tried to push his dead weight off me.

  He rolled off. Still breathing hard, he played with my hair. “Did you go to heaven or hell?”

  “Heaven.” I snuggled close. “How long can you stay?” I asked, dreading the answer.

  “For a couple of hours, but I’ll be back in two days.” He pulled me even closer and I breathed him in. “I want you to fall asleep in my arms,” he said quietly. “I’ll leave after you’re asleep.”

  “Do you promise you’ll come back?” I stared at his chest and bit the inside of my cheek. I would not cry.

  He gently lifted my face to his. “I promise.”

  “Okay then.” I smiled and closed my eyes. I was playing a game with no rules. The winner would live happily ever after and the loser would get their heart ripped out . . . A sane person should run for the hills, but living in Duluth, searching for Bigfoot, qualified me as certifiable . . . and right in that moment, that was A-OK with me.

  Chapter 25

  “So, as I was saying, we’ve chosen to stay in this area because of the wealth of, um . . .” I fumbled, pulling my jacket tighter around me. It was a chilly July morning deep in the woods of Duluth.

  “Pubes,” Edith shouted.

  “Shut the hell up,” I hissed. “Oh shit, I mean shoot. Can you edit that out?” I asked Stuey.

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “Okay great.” I took a cleansing breath and continued. “The sheer amount of what we believe to be Sasquatch hair in this particular area is astounding.”

  “Show some hair,” Stuey said.

  I grabbed the sandwich bag of shredded merkin with two fingers and held it up in front of the camera. “This is proof of Bigfoot’s rather, um, unusual hobbies.” Help me Jesus. “We found the hair on the trees and, you know, we, um collected it.”

  Mrs. C took the opportunity to shove me out of the way and finish the introduction.

  “The pubes were found at crotch level embedded in the bark, proving that Sasquatch is a hairy son of a bitch that likes to hump trees. The scientists traveling with us, who shall remain nameless, have determined the hair to be pubic and of a species unfamiliar to the area.” Mrs. C finished and was shoved out of the way by Edith.

  “According to the Bigfoot bible, Sasquatch is masterfully built and hung like an ox. He may be the only one of his kind in existence. Therefore, his huge man-tool makes his life lonely and miserable. There are very few female humans or animals that could hop on that love stick and live to tell.”

  “Oh Jesus,” a purple-faced Kim screeched and tackled Edith to the ground before she could continue. As the wrestling match on the ground escalated into what could qualify as a bitch-slap-fest, Boo shoved me back in front of the camera and gave me the silent signal to keep talking. I got momentarily sucked into her hideous lime green and Day-Glo orange sweater before I remembered the camera was still rolling. Shitmonkeys, what could I say after that?

  “Some of our group, um . . . missed their, you know . . .”

  “Medication,” Mariah volunteered.

  “Medication this morning and, ahhh . . . might be slightly confused. Soooo, I think I’ll close here and invite you to watch us search for Sasquatch!” I smiled for the camera and hoped my face wasn’t shiny. It might be chilly, but I’d worked up a whopper of a mortification sweat.

  “And cut,” Stuey said, lowering the camera and grinning like a fool. Why wouldn’t he be grinning? We were providing some hugely embarrassing and disgusting reality TV. We were sure to be a hit . . .

  “Let’s find Bigfoot!” Hugh squealed and then broke into a Guns N’ Roses medley. I was truly in hell, but it didn’t matter because I was in love and I’d had the best sex of my entire life about eight hours ago. I could deal with anything today.

  I glanced over and realized both Mariah and Boo were sporting the hideous shelter sweaters. As blindingly green, orange, and ugly as they were, I wished I had brought mine along. My thin jacket wasn’t keeping me exactly warm.

  “You ready to hunt?” Rich asked.

  Sweet baby Jesus, what in the heck was he wearing? Drawstring, plaid Jeannie pants had replaced the sweats, and his muumuu was trimmed in silver thread. Maybe he was gay . . . It didn’t matter, but I hoped he would trust me enough to be himself with me. I supposed today was as good a day as any to carefully broach the dental subject . . .

  “I’m ready.” I smiled. “Are we supposed to plant any more clues today?” I whispered as quietly as I could. I didn’t want Stuey, Heidi, or the Baldies to hear me.

  “No, I’m sure there are some poodle pubes left in the trees from yesterday,” he chuckled.

  “No doubt,” I agreed.

  As we made our way deeper into the woods, I noticed that Hugh had switched from Guns N’ Roses to Enya. His playlist was alarmingly vast and unfortunate.

  “You seem happy today,” Rich commented as he searched the ground for footprints.

  “I am. I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life,” I said, squatting down next to him and playing with some leaves.

  “And why would that be?” he asked.

  “Because I didn’t screw it up.”

  “You lost me,” he said.

  “I didn’t lose the guy.”

  “Did he call?”

  “Nope,” I grinned. “He showed up.”

  “At Paul Bunyan?” He stopped searching and gave me his full attention.

  Damn, I could have sworn his right eye was brown and his left eye was green before, but today it was just the opposite. My observation skills clearly sucked. Whatever. “Yep, he showed up last night and we, um . . . talked for a really long time.”

  “And?”

  “I love him and he loves me.”

  “That’s wonderful, Kristy.” He smiled and squeezed my hand. “I’m happy for you.”

  “Me too.” Now that I was happy, it was time to help my big buddy. I wanted him to be happy and in love too. “Um, Rich, I was wondering if you’d ever been to the orthodontist before.”

  “Why would I do that?” he asked, baffled.

  Fucktard, this was going to be more difficult than I had anticipated. “Well . . .” I racked my brain for a delicate approach. “I noticed that your teeth are just a tiny bit crooked and that can lead to your bite being off and then you’ll have problems when you get older . . . you know?”

  “Do you know a good orthodontist?” he asked, keeping his mouth as closed as he could while still trying to get words out.

  I felt sick at his embarrassment, but there was no turning back now. “Yes, as a matter of fact I do. It’s my roommate, Rena’s, dad, and he does majorly discounted work.”

  “I could certainly pay for a small adjustment,” he said. “I make a good wage as a magician.”

  “I’m sure you do,” I sputtered, worried that I’d offended him even more, “but I didn’t know if you had a magician’s dental plan and um, I just thought that . . .”

  “I think you are a lovely and caring girl,” he said, saving me from myself. He gave me a closed-mouth smile and I felt bad for bringing his shortcomings up. I would definitely hold off on the exercise and eating plan till another day. “I might check this gentleman out when we get back.”

  “I’d be happy to go with you,” I offered, relieved that he didn’t seem too angry or hurt.

  “I would like that very much.”

  We continued our footprint search in a comfortable silence. I pondered if I’d ever get to mention his hair to him. Maybe I’d just bring him by the Steves’ salon and let them broach that subject. The Steves had a wonderful way of making people think whatever they wanted to do to them was the person’s own idea.
It was a talent I didn’t have. That’s exactly what I would do. I didn’t want Rich to think I was judging everything about him . . . I just wanted to help make the outside as attractive as the inside.

  “Can I join you two lovebirds?” Heidi Kugelschmooson asked.

  WTF? Was she serious? I glanced up at her and gave her a hard stare. She looked ridiculous. Her stilettos and skin-tight minidress looked silly out in the middle of the forest and her nipples announced that she was freezing. I wondered how she hadn’t snapped an ankle yet.

  “Ahhh, Miss Kugelschmooson,” Rich said in his crisp kind-of-British accent. “I’m afraid you are mistaken. Kristy and I are just friends. She has a lovely and devoted boyfriend who adores her and I myself prefer the bachelor status at the moment. As to your joining us, the answer is no.”

  Heidi narrowed her eyes at Rich and stomped off to bother someone else.

  “You certainly laid that on a little thick,” I giggled. “Why didn’t you want her to search with us, I mean, besides the fact she’s annoying as all get-out?”

  “Isn’t that reason enough?” he asked.

  “I suppose it is.”

  Aside from the WWE match between Edith and Kim, the rest of the morning was fairly uneventful. We did find more pubes, well, Mrs. C did. It made me wonder if she had distributed another merkin. I was tempted to ask her how many she had, but stopped myself in time. My self-training to refrain from asking questions that I knew would haunt me was going well. Heidi was playing Stuey for all he was worth. Why in the hell was she doing that? She couldn’t possibly be attracted to him. Did she already know him? The puzzle was getting more complicated and I had never been good at puzzles. I hoped Aunt Moon-Unit would have some information soon on our trio of Bigfoot-killer suspects.

  “I’m so hungry, I could eat a goddamn poodle,” Edith yelled, giving us all the spastic eyebrow when Stuey wasn’t looking.

  I snorted and turned away. I was unsure if that meant she actually wanted to eat a poodle or if it was some gross sexual reference to eating the merkin or if she had finally lost her mind. It was probably a combination of all three.

  “She’s going to get us busted,” Mariah huffed.

  “Personally, I think Stuey is too stupid to catch on to anything,” Boo said as we walked back to the cabin for lunch. “But I’m not so sure about Heidi Kugelschmooson and her bald buddies. They give me the creeps.” She shuddered.

  “Have you touched them?” I asked. I’d finally drunk the Kool-Aid. I was a firm believer in Boo’s gift. My still-present afterglow from last night’s sex-a-thon made me a believer.

  “It’s odd,” she mused. “I’ve tried, but every time I get close enough, they move. It’s like they know I have this ability.”

  “That’s impossible,” Mariah said, putting her arm around her younger sister. “There’s no way they could know, unless someone told them and I can guarantee no one from our group would do that.”

  I agreed with Mariah. No one would have even thought to talk about Boo’s gift. I’m not even sure the old lesbos knew about it. Hugh was too busy rocking out and Kim would protect all of us with her own life. Rich . . . Rich was the most trustworthy person I’d ever come across. No . . . no leaks from our side.

  “What in the fuck is that?” Mariah stopped dead in her tracks and gaped at the cabin.

  I stopped beside her and stared. What in the fuck had happened while we were out rooting around for bogus Bigfoot evidence? All the windows of the cabin had been covered with thick plywood and nailed shut. It looked like an abandoned building or one that had gotten all the windows shot out of it.

  “Stan reinforced the cabin while we were out,” Stuey said proudly. “We’re going to store the expensive camera equipment in here instead of letting it sit in the trailer unattended all the time.”

  It was the first semi-intelligent thing I’d heard him say, although I wasn’t sure how comfortable I’d be with leaving eight hundred thousand dollars’ worth of cameras and lights in the woods in the middle of nowhere. Thankfully . . . not my problem.

  “Well, it looks like hell, but I’m hungry,” Edith said, stomping into the cave that used to be a light-filled cabin.

  We obediently filed in after her to be met by Stan and a big take-out bag full of subs from Rose and Popo’s. I zeroed in on the old ladies. I knew they’d leave at some point. I’d seen them shove another huge suitcase into the van’s cargo hold that morning. Today, I was going to follow them . . .

  “God bless you and your shiny little asscracks,” Mrs. C bitched to Stan and Stuey, “but can’t you homo, um . . . sapiens find some goddamn food that isn’t from an establishment that caters to fucktards?”

  I couldn’t believe she’d used my favorite word. Did it mean we had a kinship? I prayed not.

  “It’s the only place open at six in the morning,” Stan said, ignoring her upset and throwing the sandwiches on the table. “Eat, or not. I don’t care.”

  “Not,” Edith said, giving her sister a covert look. Mrs. C nodded back and they headed outside. I knew it would take them a few minutes to pull out the suitcase, so I leisurely grabbed a sub and went out after them. Thankfully everyone had been too busy getting their lunch to notice my escape. Plus, the simple fact that there was only one lamp in the now very dark cabin made slipping away quite easy.

  I stayed hidden behind Stuey’s sedan and watched them drag the suitcase from the van. After a quick scan of the area, they nodded at each other and hightailed it into the woods. Holy Lutheran God, I’d never seen them move so fast in the entire time I’d known them. They were headed to the exact area where we suspected Bigfoot was really hiding. Were they searching for him on their own? Maybe they were trying to scare him off so he couldn’t be captured. I wondered if Kim knew what they were up to.

  In a move of what I suspected would be gargantuan stupidity, I followed them. It turned out to be less stupid and more mind-boggling than anything I could have imagined.

  About fifteen minutes in, they stopped and pulled what appeared to be lime green and Day-Glo orange knitted hammocks from the suitcase, along with heavy bark-colored rope and metal clamps. WTF?

  “How many did we set yesterday?” Edith asked from halfway up a huge tree.

  How in the hell did she get up there and how did I miss that? Wait a minute . . . those lime green and orange hammocks looked alarmingly familiar. No. Freakin’. Way. Mrs. C and Edith were the anonymous sweater donors? I’d been wearing a sweater made by crotchety old lesbians who were obsessed with my boobs?

  Ooo, I had their number now. Their nasty, God bless them, skanky personalities were a cover for two old ladies who truly cared. Well, they were still nasty and skanky . . . but they cared. Maybe Grandma was right. There was more to Edith and Mrs. C than met the eye, but that still didn’t explain what they were doing.

  I watched in utter shock as Mrs. C shimmied up a tree about ten feet from the one Edith was hanging out of.

  “We set seven yesterday. We need to set at least six today. Catch,” she yelled as she tossed a long cord of bark-colored rope her sister’s way. It was difficult to see because the rope blended perfectly with the trees. And what in the hell were they setting six of today?

  “You throw like a sissy,” Edith cackled as she hung upside down from a limb and attached her rope to the tree with clamps.

  “Takes one to know one,” Mrs. C panted as she shimmied back down the tree. “Get your ass down here and help me finish.”

  “Are we going to test this one?” Edith asked, sliding down the tree like a fireman on a pole. Shit, that had to hurt. Yet she seemed fine and hustled over to secure the hammock to the ropes.

  “I think we should. These are different pulleys than the ones we used yesterday. They have more spring action,” she added gleefully.

  They secured the eye-scorching hammock to the ropes hanging from the trees, pulled it down to the forest floor, and covered it with leaves. They were so skilled that I couldn’t make out the knitted
atrocity on the ground. I held my breath and waited for what came next.

  “Get a log, you old dyke,” Mrs. C told Edith.

  “You get it,” she shot back. “I got the log yesterday.”

  “Fine, you lazy heifer,” Mrs. C groused.

  She grabbed a log off the ground that had to weigh at least fifty pounds. She lifted it with ease and tossed it onto the leaf-covered hammock. The weight of the log caused the hammock to violently snap up and choke the log, leaving it dangling about ten feet in the air. I bit back a gasp and inched farther away from the certifiable nutbags. What in God’s name were they doing?

  “Fantastic!” Edith squealed and gave her sister a high five. “Spray it.”

  Mrs. C pulled out a spray bottle and squirted the entire hammock. “That should do it.”

  Edith quickly made her way back up her tree, released a latch on the clamp, and the log fell back to earth with a thud. They quickly buried the hammock under leaves again and were back on the move.

  “That Moon-Unit is a crazy old coot, bless her heart, but thank the Good Lord Lutheran Jesus that she had a recipe to make Sasquatch repellent. I’d have a coronary if we harmed Bigfoot,” Edith grunted as she pulled the suitcase along.

  “We just need to make goddamn sure none of our group goes down this path.”

  “This is the only path they won’t send us down, you know that. You’re the one that overheard the conversation.” Edith swatted her sister in the back of the head.

  “What was it that slimy little shiny prick said?” Mrs. C stopped and tried to remember.

  “If you’re getting senile, you old queer, I’ll put you in a home so fast,” Edith warned, laughing. “What he said was, they can take any path except the southwest one. The million-dollar payday is at the end of that path and if anyone fucks it up he’ll kill them.”

  “That’s right.” Mrs. C grinned. “Won’t they be surprised when they go to find their million-dollar prize and end up strung up like floating sacks of shit?”

  The women paused in their tracks and laughed so hard I almost giggled. Their glee at stringing up Stan, Stuey, and possibly Heidi and the Baldies was contagious. I bit down hard on my lip to keep from joining them. I didn’t want them to know they were being watched. I wouldn’t put it past them to string me up for spying on them. The one thing I didn’t get was the secrecy . . . Was it because they’d be busted as the phantom sweater makers? Or because they didn’t want anyone else to get in trouble? If I had to bet, I’d say sweaters.