Nobody Loves a Bigfoot Like a Bigfoot Babe by Simon Okill Page B
Authors: Simon Okill
Tags: bigfoot
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about.
MB looked up at the sound of two approaching vehicles, followed by the sound of doors slamming shut. He heard the sheriff and the two FBI agents approaching through the woods from the parking area of Little Beaver. He caught glimpses of them as they passed through dapples of sunlight. Moments later they emerged from the trees.
Nothing much ever surprised him these days, but the sight of Willis Johnson in his city dudsâtotally inappropriate for trekking in the woods, took MB by surprise. He, like almost everyone else in town, knew damned well about the agents' arrival, but not their identities. He almost choked on his coffee, spilling some down his fatigues.
"Shit," he muttered quietly to himself, brushing the stain into a larger stain. The hot coffee forced MB to jump upright as if coming to attention. "Hi, Sheriff," he said with a smile.
Lou forced a smile but didn't speak.
Willis was also grim-faced.
The stunning female agent beamed a wide smile.
MB wondered if she was an idiot, smiling like that, for Old Indian legend tells us that woman who smiles all the time should be in the nut house.
MB surmised correctly that Lou was more than a tad unsettled by her old flame suddenly showing up, unannounced, just like his departure.
Things could get real interesting,
he mused. Oh yeah, real interesting was an understatement to end all understatements.
The look on Lou's face said it all-she still had the hots for Willis, despite what she said to anyone who cared to listen. MB recalled Lou telling him-after she'd had a few too many tequilas at Abe's, that if Willis came back into her life, she'd first tell him what she thought of him for ditching her, then she'd either take her gun and blow his balls off or she'd cuff him to the bed and fuck him senseless. MB concluded that Sheriff Lou was a contradiction in terms.
The crypto-zoologist focused his full attention on Lou's old flame.
Willis Johnson looked older, but that was to be expected after thirteen years. The guy was still a well-chiseled figure of a man.
MB decided to lay off manly descriptions, for Old Indian legend tells us that man who dwells on such things is on the wrong team.
"Hi, Willis. Long time no see." MB smiled in his amiable way.
"MB," Willis nodded, in a so-fucking-what attitude.
Merlot introduced herself, "And I'm Agent Merlot." She gave MB a thorough once over. She giggled. "Nice piece of Redwood."
Willis flashed Merlot a warning look.
"Uh . . . hi there, Agent Merlot." MB wondered why this gorgeous female was giggling and what she meant by the Redwood remark?
Merlot shook MB's hand, "Just make it Merlot, okay?"
"Sure thing, Merlot." MB beamed a wide smile. "This way," he gestured with a hand as he walked over to the edge of the clearing to the spot where Beau went to take a leak. "That's where Beau took a piss and that was the last place he was seen. No doubt he'll show up and come up with that same lame excuse-Bigfoot, as if?" MB paused and shook his head. "Everyone with an ounce of sense knows Bigfoot doesn't exist."
"But, you're a crypto-zoologist?" Merlot asked incredulously.
"That I am, but Old Indian legend tells us that man who finds what he has always been looking for has no reason to go on."
"But I thought you guys . . . you know . . . really believed in Bigfoot."
Sure, MB wanted to believe in Bigfoot. His job-not that he got paid or anything, depended on it, but so far he had nothing to prove the creature existed. Okay, he had plenty of photographs, most of which were displayed on Annie's Diner walls, and a few good casts of Bigfoot's big feet, but none of it was for real. He and Duane knew that.
MB sighed heavily and thought it time for another of his gems of wisdom to impress the FBI agent. "Old Indian legend tells us that man who finds truth in all things is wise."
A puzzled look flittered over Merlot's face. "That's cool. I didn't know that."
"Why should you? Old Indian legend tells us that it is a wise man that
MB looked up at the sound of two approaching vehicles, followed by the sound of doors slamming shut. He heard the sheriff and the two FBI agents approaching through the woods from the parking area of Little Beaver. He caught glimpses of them as they passed through dapples of sunlight. Moments later they emerged from the trees.
Nothing much ever surprised him these days, but the sight of Willis Johnson in his city dudsâtotally inappropriate for trekking in the woods, took MB by surprise. He, like almost everyone else in town, knew damned well about the agents' arrival, but not their identities. He almost choked on his coffee, spilling some down his fatigues.
"Shit," he muttered quietly to himself, brushing the stain into a larger stain. The hot coffee forced MB to jump upright as if coming to attention. "Hi, Sheriff," he said with a smile.
Lou forced a smile but didn't speak.
Willis was also grim-faced.
The stunning female agent beamed a wide smile.
MB wondered if she was an idiot, smiling like that, for Old Indian legend tells us that woman who smiles all the time should be in the nut house.
MB surmised correctly that Lou was more than a tad unsettled by her old flame suddenly showing up, unannounced, just like his departure.
Things could get real interesting,
he mused. Oh yeah, real interesting was an understatement to end all understatements.
The look on Lou's face said it all-she still had the hots for Willis, despite what she said to anyone who cared to listen. MB recalled Lou telling him-after she'd had a few too many tequilas at Abe's, that if Willis came back into her life, she'd first tell him what she thought of him for ditching her, then she'd either take her gun and blow his balls off or she'd cuff him to the bed and fuck him senseless. MB concluded that Sheriff Lou was a contradiction in terms.
The crypto-zoologist focused his full attention on Lou's old flame.
Willis Johnson looked older, but that was to be expected after thirteen years. The guy was still a well-chiseled figure of a man.
MB decided to lay off manly descriptions, for Old Indian legend tells us that man who dwells on such things is on the wrong team.
"Hi, Willis. Long time no see." MB smiled in his amiable way.
"MB," Willis nodded, in a so-fucking-what attitude.
Merlot introduced herself, "And I'm Agent Merlot." She gave MB a thorough once over. She giggled. "Nice piece of Redwood."
Willis flashed Merlot a warning look.
"Uh . . . hi there, Agent Merlot." MB wondered why this gorgeous female was giggling and what she meant by the Redwood remark?
Merlot shook MB's hand, "Just make it Merlot, okay?"
"Sure thing, Merlot." MB beamed a wide smile. "This way," he gestured with a hand as he walked over to the edge of the clearing to the spot where Beau went to take a leak. "That's where Beau took a piss and that was the last place he was seen. No doubt he'll show up and come up with that same lame excuse-Bigfoot, as if?" MB paused and shook his head. "Everyone with an ounce of sense knows Bigfoot doesn't exist."
"But, you're a crypto-zoologist?" Merlot asked incredulously.
"That I am, but Old Indian legend tells us that man who finds what he has always been looking for has no reason to go on."
"But I thought you guys . . . you know . . . really believed in Bigfoot."
Sure, MB wanted to believe in Bigfoot. His job-not that he got paid or anything, depended on it, but so far he had nothing to prove the creature existed. Okay, he had plenty of photographs, most of which were displayed on Annie's Diner walls, and a few good casts of Bigfoot's big feet, but none of it was for real. He and Duane knew that.
MB sighed heavily and thought it time for another of his gems of wisdom to impress the FBI agent. "Old Indian legend tells us that man who finds truth in all things is wise."
A puzzled look flittered over Merlot's face. "That's cool. I didn't know that."
"Why should you? Old Indian legend tells us that it is a wise man that
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