Sasquatch

by

Ed Kelemen

Hey- you must be new here. I'm Charley Smiggins, bartender here at The Final Approach Lounge. What can I getcha? O.K., one tall cold one coming right up. Must be dusty out there.

Here ya go. There used to be an airport near here. It dried up and blew away like yesterday's snow flurries. I'm one of the last who know how the joint got its name, but I'm sick and tired of answering stupid questions. So, who knows what I might tell the next guy who asks.

Time was this place had entertainment. You know, the real stuff: a guy or a broad at that old piano over there tickling them keys and trilling like a nightingale, whatever that is. It must be good 'cause I heard about some Chinese emperor guy who really dug on them nightingales. Yeah, thems was the days. I used to serve honest-to-god cocktails with fruit and olives and all that stuff in 'em.

Oops- sorry- be back in a minute. Gotta serve that guy down the other end of the bar.

O.K., where was I. Oh yeah- Back when the planes was flyin we even had real food from the kitchen. Not these chicken wings and fries and burgers and store bought cole slaw we got today. You coulda even had a big New York Strip with all the trimmins.

Hey- ya want me to refresh that thing in front of ya? On the house, if ya know what I mean. Don't get a lot of people way out here in the middle of the week. Most of our business now is hunters and fishermen towards the weekend. Tonight being Tuesday, there ain't nobody here but you and ole Louie down the end of the bar. You know that already, don'tcha?

Lemme tell ya what happened last week. Wednesday, it was. There weren't nobody here but me and Louie and it was still early enough in the night that nothing but news and game shows was on the TV.

Afore ya know it, I heered tires kicking up a fuss in the parking lot. Next thing the door darn near got tore off its hinges and I seen a pair of the most skairt folks I seen in a long time come charging in.

The guy was bad enough, what with his eyes all bugged out like they was gonna fall down his face, which was all kinda pale and gray like. But that poor woman. She was just this side of hysterical.

Her makeup was all streaky-like on her face making her look like a startled raccoon with saucers for eyes., if you know what I mean. She kept openin' and closin' her mouth like a carp out of the water. But she couldn't make any sound 'cept a kin of wheezing .And her hair looked like someone'd been tryin to rip it out.

The guy, which I figured was some lost office worker or something says, "Omigod, ohmigod, omigod," over and over. And she just nodded like she agreed with him.

Now, I been tending bar long enough to know when someone needs a hard jolt. So, before they even has a chance to ask, I placed a couple of Texas Shooters full of good ole Pennsylvania Panther Sweat down in front of them.

Why those two just picked up them shooters, slammed them back down their throats and set them back on the bar before I knew what was what. Let me tell you: that's a feat with good ole PA Panther Sweat. Not too many Jills, nor Joes neither can slam that stuff down without so much as a gasp.

Then without so much as drawing a breath, they both pointed at their glasses for a refill, and repeated their performance and pointed for an encore..

Lemme tell you, sir, that was the fastest fifteen dollars anybody spent in this bar in quite some time. Yep, in quite some time.

The first two drinks must've got to them by then, because they just sort of sipped at their third drink. But they still looked shaky to me.

So I asked them. I said, "You two came barging in here like the Oklahoma Willie Waws was on your tail. Y'all care to share what's happening?"

Then the two of them poured out words like it was flour being spilt out of a split sack. Let me tell you, it took me a while to sort things out what with them tripping over each other's words as fast as they could flap their jaws.

Heck! I even set the next round up for them on the house, just to slow them down, so I could cipher out what they was saying.

After I got it all sorted out, here's as best as I could make out what had happened:

The guy and the woman were just riding around looking at the changing colors of the leaves. You know- like city folk are apt to do when they don't got nothing better to do which is a lot of the time when they get out here, if ya know what I mean. Not like they had to work for a living or nothing.

Anyhow, they were out on some dirt road up on the ridge when the sun was going down and they was just admiring all the colors of the sunset. Ya know- like city folk do.

Well, after the sun went down, they decided to leave. I guess he wasn't the kind of guy she wanted to do no canoodling with. Or maybe he guessed wrong and she just wasn't the kind of woman to want to canoodle in a parked car.

Whatever. He started the car and turned on the lights. He said he must've had the high beams on, 'cause the little blue light was showing. So, he flicked the lever and dropped to the low beams.

Just about that time, the woman gives him a poke in the ribs and points out the front window. He said her mouth was working, but nothing was coming out, so he looked to where she was pointing.

That's when he told me they saw the most god-awful apparition that either of them had ever seen in their lives, even in the movies. It stood about seven foot tall and was covered in long, shaggy green and brown stuff and didn't even have no face. Where its face should've been was just two black eye holes. They said they couldn't see no nose or mouth or nothing.

But, now here's the kicker: It was carrying a dead deer across its shoulders just as easy as pie, like me or you carrying a sack of dog food.

It walked to the middle of the road where it was in the headlights, turned to face their car and just as plain as "thank you ma'am," turned around and walked back into the bushes.

About this time, the guy says that the woman started screaming, "Sasquatch! It's Sasqatch. It's gonna kill us. It's one of them Big Feet from the mountain and it's gonna eat us.!" He said she said a lot of other things too, but he couldn't make them out.

Then he put the car in gear, floored it and didn't stop till he seen the sign here. He was so shook up that he didn't even say nothing about the letters being out sos that the sign says, "The Final roach."

That was Wednesday. No, don't go yet. I ain't done. Looky here- here's another one on the house. Let me finish.

Wait a sec. Be right back. Louie needs another one.

O.K., sorry 'bout that. Where was I. Oh Yeah. A couple of days goes by and next thing you know it's Saturday afternoon. We had a decent crowd in, about ten or twelve guys. It wasn't packed like it gets during hunting season, but at least there was some people in here talking and making the place seem like it had some life, if you know what I mean.

Anyhow, round about two in the afternoon, Timmie Jacobson and Harley Eldwalder come in for their lunch. Those boys are the local Game Commission Officers. And, don't you know it, they ain't such bad types. They're the kind of fellows that'll bend over backwards to give you the benefit of the doubt. Heck, in these days when deer hunters are shootin each other by mistake, you can see how easy it is to mistake a four point for a six point or an eight point, if you know what I mean. These guys understand that, since all the business left these parts to go where there's cheaper taxes, so guys just have to struggle to feed their families.

Anyway, I set up a pair of iced teas for these guys, since they were on duty and it was just their lunch hour anyways. They each ordered a dozen of them Buffalo Wings and sides of fries and slaw. How they can eat that stuff week in and week out, I'll never know. My Mary always makes sure that she packs me some wholesome sandwiches and an apple every time I leave the house for work. A healthy body starts with healthy food, if you know what I mean.

O.K., so I put the plates down in front of them and the two of them are acting like high school boys who just set fire to an outhouse with someone in it. So, I asked them, "What's so darned funny?"

I mean, if its a good joke, share it around and spread the humor, that's what I always say.

Well these two had the giggles so bad that Timmie, for one, had to wipe tears out of his eyes before he could talk. It didn't make no matter anyways because Harley jumped right in with the story.

Seems like the two of them were patrolling up on the ridge last Wednesday night when they saw a singular sight. It looked like a big shaggy bush with legs was walking down the road away from them carrying an animal on its back.

Well, the two of them let their Jeep drift up on it and when they was about ten feet away, Timmie hit the brakes and turned on the headlights at the same time as while him and Harley were jumping out of the Jeep.

Harley said that that's when they noticed how big this thing was. It stood over six and a half feet tall and what with all the shaggy stuff hanging off it ever which way, must've weight two hundred and fifty pounds

Harley saids that Timmie yelled out, "Hey Mister Thing. I don't know who or what you are, but iffin you don't stop, turn around and put them things that might be hands up in the air, I'm gonna find out if you're bullet proof."

Well, sure enough, it turned around and set down in front of it the animal it was carrying which turned out to be a deer and put up its hands or paws.

Then, from inside it came a rumble or a growl or something that said something like it was gonna make it hotter 'n hell for us in a minute.

Now, Timmie and Harley are easy going, kind of. But when they are drawn down on someone poaching deer , they don't take kindly to threats, even if its coming from something twice their size. Nothing equalizes size like a 357 I always say, if you know what I mean.

After they made their threats, the thing just shook what it was using for a head back and forth. Then it grabbed its head on either side where the ears should have been and pulled it clean off. Underneath that head was that no good Johnnie-Raye Collins. You know, old Tom Collins youngest boy? He never was no good for nothing since he led the High School Basketball Team to the state championship. You remember that year when the Muskrats won? He was the team captain.

He always was one long, skinny drink of water. And wasn't never any use for nothing but playing basketball.

"What is that thin you're wearing?" Timmie asked.

Johnnie-Raye replied, "It's a Ghillie Suit. My older brother Winston, what's in the Marines, showed me about it. It's what snipers wear so they won't be seen. You know, like camouflage."

Then Harley asked, "Then what are you all get up to be? A Ghillie?"

"I dunno," replied Johnnie-Raye," But some woman earlier tonight said it made me look like I had big feet."

Hey- wait a minute mister. Ain't you even gonna stick around to find out if they arrested him?