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I don't
know how many of you heard about it, but evidently we had a Sasquatch/Bigfoot
sighting last week in Honobia, Oklahoma. It appears a family living way
back in the hills was visited by a couple of 8 ft. tall, hairy, man-like
creatures who broke into their outside freezer and terrorized the family
until the husband supposedly shot one, and the Bigfoots/Feet (Big Feets?)
fled into the night.
I see
you smiling, Yeah right, you say, still grinning. But who knows what lurks
in the darkness of those lonely mountains? Who really knows? Okay,
I admit its more likely that some homegrown pot and a little moonshine
were responsible for the appearances of the Bigfoot/Feet, but it still
makes for a great tale. It reminds me of a story about the buddy of mine
who bought a gorilla suit and a Tina Turner wig and used to scare late
night motorists on a road near his house.
Burt was just naturally wrapped a little loose. He watched a documentary
on the Bigfoot phenomenon one night and became so intrigued, he chased
down every scrap of information he could find on the creatures. Then
he began scouring the hills in Arkansas for signs of a Sasquatch. When
eventually he couldn't find one, he simply decided to become one. Usually,
after about half a bottle of Old Jack, Burt would throw his gorilla suit
and his wig in the pickup and drive to a lonely area where the road entered
the National Forest. He'd park the truck out of sight, don his costume
and wait in the woods by the road for an approaching set of headlights.
When
the unsuspecting motorist got fairly close, Burt would lumber out into
the middle of the highway and raise his arms menacingly at the lights,
then he'd high-tail it into the woods on the other side laughing like
a hyena. He did
this for quite some time and had begun to enjoy the reports of Bigfoot
sightings that were circulating throughout the area, but all the fun came
to an abrupt end one night for old Burt. He swears this story is true.
Personally, I'm not sure how much the whisky had to do with it, but this
is the tale anyway.
One night, Burt had planted himself and his bottle of Old Jack in the
woods and had already raised the blood pressure of several motorists,
when he saw the lights of a big pickup headed his way. Little did he know
that seated in that truck were a couple of guys who were nearly as Neanderthal
as the creature he was imitating.
Frank Flip and his brother Vernon were just returning from an unsuccessful
evening of poaching deer in the National Forest. They'd been sharing a
jug of moonshine since about 10 p.m., and both were three sheets to the
wind.
When old Burt came of the woods, he was pretty well lit himself. He crabbed
his way out to the center of the road and raised his hands, pausing a
little longer than normal -- his liquor-fuddled mind not quite registering
how close the approaching truck was.
About the time he decided to get on the move, he stumbled, sprawling out
on the shoulder of the road like a truck-struck raccoon. Frank and Vernon
were way too drunk (and probably too stupid) to be afraid of the giant
hairy creature in the road.
The pickup screeched to a halt and the Flip brothers stumbled out, guns
in hand -- they hadn't got a deer that night, but a Bigfoot mounted on
the wall would be even better.
Burt scrambled to his feet with the sound of gunshots in the air and turf
exploding around him. With a high-pitched scream, he was off and running,
undoubtedly setting a Guinness World Book of Records for the fastest 100-yard
dash by an imitation sasquatch.
He made it to the woods as bullets thudded into trees around him, his
ears filled with the slurred shouts of the Flip brothers, still very much
bent on having them a Bigfoot. Burt headed straight into the woods, the
Flips close behind. They probably would have caught him, but Vernon, in
his unbridled enthusiasm, ran smack-dab into the low hanging limb of a
pine tree, knocking himself out. By the time Frank brought him around,
Burt was well gone and headed for the deep woods. Old Burt ran until his
heart sounded like a blacksmith's hammer and his breath was coming in
locomotive gasps.
Finally, he just flat wore out and collapsed to the ground. Burt said
he stayed like that for about 10 minutes -- just laying there, trying
to catch his breath. It was as still as a graveyard, the only sounds were
the ragged breaths he drew. A sliver of a moon had risen above the trees,
casting an eerie glow through the forest floor.
Suddenly Burt heard a sound, like a branch being moved... Then he heard
another sound... Something was moving in the periphery of the darkness
around him. Something big. He could hear the dry leaves crackling underfoot
with each slow deliberate step. At first he thought it might be one of
the crazies who had tried to shoot him, but he had lost them way back.
Besides, something in his mind told him that wasn't it. There was a smell
in the air -- the heavy, musky blend of an animal's lair -- of matted
hair and feces, and old earth. Burt had just decided that this was no
longer a good place to be and began to rise, when there was a guttural
grunt from the darkness, and something reached around him from behind
and jerked him to his feet.
Something with huge hairy arms, something that smelled like a badly maintained
badger cage. Now you have to bear in mind here that Burt was still dressed
as a Sasquatch -- complete with gorilla suit and Tina Turner wig. Burt
said he managed to turn around and look up just enough to get a glance
of a face right out of the X-Files -- huge yellow teeth, flared nostrils
and a pair of deep-set, haunted eyes that carried the strangest glint...
That was enough for our gorilla boy. He fainted dead away. Burt came-to
seconds later, with something licking the back of his neck. The creature
still held him tightly -- but not painfully -- licking the neck of Burt's
gorilla suit and issuing a throaty moan.
At that point, Burt said he was aware of 2 things -- one: the creature
was a male, and two: it really liked him. Well, being a love toy for an
8 ft. Bigfoot was right up there with the top 10 things Burt never wanted
to have happen to him -- right next to leprosy, root canals and hemorrhoid
surgery. Burt said he was beginning to feel like he was starring in a
new version of Deliverance directed by Stephen King.
A final insistent shove from Mr. Bigfoot was all the prompting old Burt
needed. Fight or flight adrenaline hit his system in a rush and flight
definitely won out. Burt threw his arms up and broke the grip of his lusty
new friend and was gone like Black Beauty on bennies, leaving Bigfoot
with nothing but a wig in his hand and an ache in his... heart.
At that point, Burt said he was fairly certain he broke his first world
record for the 100 yard dash. As he streaked into the darkness of the
woods, he could hear the mournful wails of his hairy companion growing
fainter in the distance. Well, Burt ran until he was purely exhausted
again, but as luck would have it, he had run in the right direction and
had come out on the road.
That was the good news. The bad news was he'd emerged less than 75 yards
from the Flip brothers, who were just getting into their truck to leave.
Frank spotted the goll-derned Bigfoot and the race was on again. As the
Flips came pouring out of the pickup, guns blazing, Burt started screaming
incoherently about not being a Bigfoot and ripped the gorilla head off
to show them. That would have worked, if he had been dealing with rational
people.Vernon took one look at Burt and shouted, "He pulled his goll-derned
head off! Shoot the heeaaad! Shoot the heeaaad!"
When
a 30.06 round slapped the front of the head, jerking it out of Burt's
hand, he realized negotiation was not going to be an issue. In a blink
he was headed back into the woods, unzipping and ripping off the gorilla
suit as he stumbled along at breakneck speed (probably another Guinness
Book record).
About an hour later, a state highway patrol officer was cruising along
when he spotted Burt in nothing but his underwear, waving at him from
the side of the road.
Later, the officer was heard to remark that normally when they came across
someone naked on the highway, they had to chase them down. This particular
guy not only wanted to be caught and taken to the police station, he wanted
to be locked in the trunk on the way there.
Needless to say, Burt gave up his late night escapades. The Flip brothers
never got a Sasquatch to mount on the wall, and if this story's true,
somewhere out there in those woods is a love-lorn Bigfoot with nothing
but a Tina Turner wig and the memory of what might have been.
Aaahh, love can be such a fleeting thing --- or is that fleeing?
Story by Mena Star staff writer, Michael Resig
The Mena Star, Mena, Arkansas
Article courtesy David Wilbanks via Lisa Chandler in Mena,
Arkansas
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