“Woooo … wooooo … wooooooo.” This call bounced around the woods filling the evening air with its eerie allure.
Duane scratched his chin and chuckled. That all-too-familiar urge rippled through his well-muscled body. With his newfound sixth sense, he knew those out there were thinking of him. He picked up brief images of hairy ape-like creatures frolicking in the forest. It was time. The calls came thick and fast beckoning him to join them. He dropped the mug to the wooden decking and sprang to his feet. Kicking off his slippers, scrambling out of his jeans, underwear and t-shirt, he shuddered as if cold, but it was a warm evening in August. With an animalistic scream, Duane raced off into the dark forest like an anemic bat out of hell.
Duane’s hooting calls echoed through the ancient forest, to be answered by the animal howls. Whooping and hollering with arms flailing wildly, he was now heavily covered in shimmering hair that matched the wild blond mess atop his head. Now six inches taller and more animal than human, he ran with all the agility of a deer, dodging trees in almost total darkness.
Without warning, his agility left him as he tripped over an exposed tree root and fell down a steep gulley, ass over tip, over and over. From the gulley came screams and strange noises, moans then silence.
Moments later, a hairy hand gripped a root and hauled the rest of its body from the ravine. Doowane the WereBigfoot, now covered with fine blond hair, trudged with heavy foot and deliberate intent towards the crackling of a distant flickering camp fire. He stopped to snatch a moth-eaten rucksack hanging from a branch — as if deliberately left for him, which it was, and slung it over his shoulder. He froze. Something big crashed through saplings and bushes, forcing Doowane to whirl around in that direction.
“Geez Louise … not again … I’m not in the mood for rough and tumble, Brutus.”
Brutus the grizzly bear was having none of that and smashed into the hapless WereBigfoot, throwing him several feet into the air to land with a hefty thump on the soft forest floor covered with moss and pine needles.
Doowane gurgled trying to draw breath. Thank goodness he was in WereBigfoot form and virtually indestructible. He bristled his hair to increase his size and intimidate the grizzly.
Brutus growled with menace, “Raaaaeeeeeaaaaagh.” He stood to his full height and roared so loud it might very well have been heard in the next state. He towered over Doowane by two feet.
“Don’t you raaaargh me, you big bully,” Doowane said, wagging his finger.
“Raaaaargh!”
“Okay … now you’re for it, Brutus.”
Doowane backed away, as if in retreat, but maintained eye contact with Brutus. The grizzly slobbered thick drool from huge incisors gnashing the air, but that didn’t fool him. He charged at the grizzly.
To the grizzly’s utter surprise, it was thrown backwards by the blond WereBigfoot hurtling into its chest with both big feet. The bear was thrown onto its back. As the grizzly rolled onto all four paws, shaking its head, it received a karate kick to the jaw. The grizzly yelped and ran off into the forest, mewling like a baby.
“Serves you right, dumbass.”
As an afterthought Doowane gave Brutus the bird, picked up his rucksack, and trudged off into the dark woods, breathing heavily.
Trudging through the forest, Doowane sensed a tingling in his bones and knew this meant one thing — he was going to change back to his human form. A moment later his body rippled, his bones contorted, his Bigfoot hair dissipated from his body, his height and size diminished. He let off a big fart. Phew! He gagged on his stinky fumes.
Sweat bathed his naked body. The chill of the night air made him shiver. He quickly retrieved his Bigfoot duds and head from his rucksack and proceeded to get into character, that of Duane-o the dumbass Phantom Bigfoot.
A short time later, Duane stood hidden amongst a grove of Ponderosa pine. He spied on two familiar sexy hikers wearing tight shorts and tighter t-shirts at the Little Beaver Picnic Area chatting with his best friend, MB.
The full moon shone brightly, perfectly illuminating the giggling teenage girls. Duane trembled all over with that deep animalistic urge, now so familiar and comforting. He grabbed his groin and growled feeling the urge to mate but told himself, not yet!
Under Duane’s watchful gaze MB, his raven hair tied in a ponytail as was the fashion for a member of the First People, chatted with the girls. His denim shirt stuck to his back. He was in a deep sweat of sexual attraction, covertly glimpsing revealing cleavage and lovely tanned thighs.
“What’s the matter with you, MB,” the blonde hiker said. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “You look so hot and sweaty!”
MB averted his eyes from her boobs and went bright red with embarrassment. He fished in his rucksack and opened a bottle of beer. He glugged noisily and belched loudly.
“Pig!” the red-head hiker remarked with a cheeky smirk. She and her friend toasted weenies and marshmallows.
The snapping of twigs alerted them all to something lurking in the dark woods. They looked with trepidation into the blackness.
MB chuckled at the girls’ unease. “That I am Kirsty, that I am … but Old Indian Legend tells us man who doesn’t release gas will explode.”
Kirsty and her friend giggled. They pointed into the dark forest.
Within the protection of the surrounding forest, they saw a lone Bigfoot using the tree line and bushes to hide behind. This specimen was not too tall, but not too short. The creature carelessly snapped twigs and broke saplings as it emerged from the tree line.
Both hikers gasped and hugged in fear then giggled.
The blonde groped inside a rucksack and removed a camera. She was about to snap the Bigfoot and become famous, but frowned. She called out, “Come out, come out, wherever you are, Duane.”
The blond-furred Phantom Bigfoot sauntered towards the flickering flames of the campfire, removing his Bigfoot head with its face that only a mother could love, to reveal his scruffy blond hair and bristly face. He smirked like the rascal he was well-known to be.
“What of it, Zooey?” he replied in a slightly off-handed tone. With his Bigfoot head under his arm, Duane sat between Zooey and Kirsty, who seemed eager for his company. He eyed the wholesome girls with a wanton twinkle.
“You know I’m a sucker for those gorgeous blue eyes, Duane,” Kirsty said.
“Hey, wanna make out under the Big X?” Duane looked at two pines leaning against each other to form an X with the rising moon in the upper V. “Or let’s go skinny-dipping in Little Beaver,” he gestured to the gurgling river that meandered past the picnic spot.
Kirsty plucked twigs and moss from Duane’s disheveled hair. She sniffed him. “No way, José … and what the hell you been doing, Duane, you stink?”
Duane wasn’t fazed by Kirsty’s refusal. He absent-mindedly plucked more debris from his hair and shrugged, “Took a tumble back there in the woods … no biggie.” He offered a hand to MB who tossed a bottle of beer to him. Duane used his teeth to crack it open and glugged the entire contents in seconds. He belched with satisfaction. “Oops, manners … want some?”
“You know we’re underage, Duane,” Zooey said with a smirk. “Oh to be twenty-one … what a fucked-up law,” she sighed.
Kirsty gave Duane a keen look. “So come on Duane … fess up. We know it’s you who’s the Phantom Bigfoot Bather.”
Duane shook his head, no and glugged down his beer before he replied, “If I told you I was then I wouldn’t be the Phantom Bigfoot now would I?”
“You can trust us,” Kirsty smiled. “Come on, Duane … after all we back you up on stage.”
Duane looked thoughtful for a moment. He had no intention to fess up. But to keep the girls entertained with his conversation he decided to egg them on a tad. “You wanna know a secret?” Exaggerated roll of his eyes. “A big secret!” He glanced at MB and gave him a knowing wink. The chief would take his lead and know what to say.
Both girls looked wide-eyed with interest at Duane�
��s impish face.
MB chirped in. He spoke in a deep tone of voice that was edged with a touch of humor, “Old Indian Legend tells us that man who tells tall tales is not necessarily a tall man.” He allowed that particular item of wisdom to sink in, waiting for the girls’ giggles to diminish before continuing.
Duane nodded his head in agreement.
“What Duane is about to tell you cannot be divulged to anyone, especially the local press.” MB was rudely interrupted by Zooey.
“That’s all screwed up MB … you are the local press.” Zooey sniggered.
MB heaved an exaggerated sigh as the giggles wouldn’t stop. “Old Indian Legend tells us that those who interrupt the story will never get to hear the end.”
Zooey and Kirsty stared disbelievingly at MB’s deadly serious face. Both whirled around in fright as strange animal noises ripped apart the twilight gloom.
“Wooooo … wooooo … wooooo.” Followed by, “Weeee … wooooo … weeeeee … woooooo … woooooo … weeeee … woooooo.”
Zooey and Kirsty looked fearfully around them, but all they could see were dancing fireflies hovering at least seven feet above ground.
“What the fuck was that?” Zooey looked all around with wide eyes.
“That’s not Bigfoot … most likely it’s just some dumbass like Duane fooling around,” Kirsty said. “Come on Duane tell us your big secret. Tell us you’re The Phantom Bigfoot Bather?” She grinned at Duane. “As if I need to ask?”
Duane looked all innocent and grinned back.
“Yeah we gotta know if it’s you,” Zooey chipped in with a pout.
MB was about to speak when the sound of a sputtering Volkswagen drew closer. “Bummer!”
Duane put on his Bigfoot head. “Come on girls, we got company … back to my cabin for some fun.”
“Eeeew … no freakin’ way, you stink!” Zooey replied.
Both girls got up and slipped on their rucksacks. They walked over to their mountain bikes, hopped on, switched on their lights. With a wave to the guys they pedaled off into the dark woods along a cycle path.
Duane watched the bikes’ lights flashing erratically through the darkening forest, knowing they would be safe as Big Beaver had no crime. “Do you actually know who The Phantom Bigfoot Bather is, MB?”
“Offhand, I cannot say with certainty … but I have a damned good idea.” MB gave Duane a knowing look.
“Can’t print damned good ideas … you gotta get proof first.” Duane smirked with a sneaky glint to his eyes.
The sputtering engine was real close now as it headed down Little Beaver road toward the parking area.
It was time to make a move before Beau and co got there and insisted they stay and have a few beers. Duane wanted to keep a clear head for what he had to do that night. He joked, “Let’s go and see if we can spot Bigfoot.”
MB agreed with a nod of the head and they quickly stomped out the fire, poured dregs of beer here and there over some embers and trudged off into the gloomy woods with their flashlights switched on.
After a few minutes Duane smacked his head. “Shit, left the rucksack back at camp.”
MB shrugged, “So what … it’s falling apart … let the raccoons make a nest with it.”
Duane shook his head. “No can do, MB … it’s my old man’s.”
MB looked concerned, “Has he got in touch since you know …?”
Duane faltered and turned to MB. “He will when he’s ready.”
“Don’t worry, you’re secret is safe with me.” MB paused, “But it’s bound to get out sooner than later that you’re all alone out here in the wilds.”
“By then it won’t matter anymore,” Duane said with a faraway look to his eyes.
“Whatever that’s supposed to mean?” MB waited for Duane to explain, but his closest friend gave him a wink. MB shrugged and sauntered off leaving Duane to scamper back to the picnic area.
Before Beau and his friends got to the picnic area Duane picked up his rucksack and snuck behind some bushes where he waited and watched. He switched off his flashlight so as not to give himself away, besides he didn’t need it. His acute hearing picked up something approaching in the woods.
He saw telltale sign of fireflies hovering about five and half feet from the ground. This could get interesting, Duane thought. He connected with Zola the Bigfoot’s rampant thoughts, and wondered what the heck she was up to. He had rambling, disconnected images of her hands rifling bins for beer cans, brief glimpses of the campfire and an overwhelming feeling of love. She was thinking of him and so assumed she loved him.
Chapter 2
Zola the Naughty Bigfoot
DUANE CLEARLY RECALLED his first brush with a drink called the Jooobaaa on his eighteenth birthday. It wasn’t like anything he had ever tasted. His father mentioned a certain beverage fermented from something called Jooobaaa. Anyway, he sipped some of this Jooobaaa mixed with orange juice and fresh lime and came to the conclusion the drink had alcoholic properties. And did it taste weird or what, real weird. Of course at this early juncture, Duane had no idea what Jooobaaa was, save for the fact his father told him the stuff would help him become The Guardian and that it wasn’t really alcohol as such.
At first, the Jooobaaa tasted vile, bitter and numbed his lips and tongue, but after the third swig he found the effects to be most invigorating, if not downright rejuvenating. That was when the sixth sense kicked in like a wild mule back kick to the head. WOW! Whenever a close friend or a chosen one thought of Duane he tuned into them, but they had to be thinking about him to get the show going. This meant he often received jumbled images that rarely made sense.
And now Duane used that sixth sense to his own advantage. So he listened in on his hairy friend’s thoughts and saw through her eyes.
The bright moon reflected from Zola’s large eyes as she happily meandered through the dark forest toward the picnic area. Her huge tufted ears twitched to the sputtering sound of her chosen wuv’s four-legged thing. Her inquisitive nature told her to investigate. So she did. She quickened her pace and skipped with reckless abandon through the woods with all the excitement of a Bigfoot Babe in baby Bigfoot-wuv.
Zola stood at the edge of the picnic area often frequented by humans. She breathed heavily from her exertions and her lust.
Her ears twitched to the sound of happy voices emanating from the young humans. She could see their flameless torches bobbing up and down as they made their way to the picnic area.
Some moments later they emerged from the forest. Zola watched intently as they set up camp, lit a fire and pitched one tent and all the time talking and laughing as they did so.
It didn’t take long for them to settle themselves around the fire.
One of the humans pointed right at Zola. Zola tucked her hairy bulk behind a nearby tree and waited. Nothing happened. That was close. She sighed with relief. Despite that near miss, she decided to get a closer look and cautiously stalked from tree to tree. Her big feet were of sufficient size to cause the undergrowth to rustle and for twigs to crack beneath the weight they carried.
Her shiny, deep blue eyes, watched the fun-loving youngsters with an envious look. She mewled, for her eyes were young too and wanted to join in the fun. Her hair bristled with emotions running high.
A male human stood up gesticulating. For the first time, Zola judged her height and sighed for she was smaller than the human. She pouted, judging herself to be no more than one and half strides. That was too small for her Bigfoot tribe and too small to attract a mate. But she was very strong, as displayed by her immense hands snapping a hefty branch as she wooed her plaything — the pretty blond Boo.
She checked her hair was tidy and patted down a few stray tufts of lustrous light fawn, dappled with patches of dark reddish-brown, here and there. This she had seen done by Teena and the Bigfoot Babes and so it must be right. She tugged a few lengths of bramble from her hair and used them to comb herself.
Zola had a pair of golden circles
around her eyes, giving the appearance of spectacles. She knew her face was quite pretty in a Bigfoot way, with fine hairs barely covering her light, golden brown skin. Her cute little snout twitched with every scent it detected. She really wanted to nudge her snout with Boo’s. Like now!
Zola watched a female human dancing with Boo. She placed hairy hands to her small suckle-bumps and spat. They too were not developing as she expected — not like her friend, Teena. Life was so unfair. She stared down at her erect nipples poking through her luxuriant chest hair which covered her all the way down to her nether regions, where the hair hung in long damp tufts. An ache longed to be satisfied down there.
Zola moved slowly and as carefully as she could towards the sound of laughter. She was very mindful to keep well-hidden amongst the brush and thickets. From her vantage point behind another tree, she watched and listened.
Zola’s chosen one sat by the fire enjoying his friends’ antics, slurping what she hoped was happy juice. She watched the plump dark-haired female with rings on her face point a strange box at the others. Zola was alarmed. She thought it was a fire stick, but the strange box seemed to attract them in some way.
The dark-haired male with the spotty face and bright blue eyes started to act in a very peculiar way, sending frightened signals to Zola’s ears.
“Oooooh,” he laughed. He started to remove his upper covering. “Want some more Soozie?”
Soozie filmed him and giggled, “That’s my boy, Chad …take it all off.”
Zola’s acute hearing picked up every word and nuance. She understood all those sounds spoken and the gist of what was said was clear to her — they were having fun. She wanted to speak to them, but that took many moons to master and she didn’t have time to waste by growing up. So far, Zola could only manage the wild calls. Oh how much she needed to talk to her plaything.
Her blond chosen one grabbed the other red-haired female and started kissing her. Zola scowled then grinned, showing her big yellow teeth. She wanted to do that with her blue-eyed Boo. Now the pimply Chad, revealing a lean chest, twirled his shirt. She chortled as he threw the shirt into the fire.
Claws of Doom Page 34