The Bigfoot's Grudge

A Sasquatch went on the prowl,

As the wolves began to howl,

While a hog devoured some trout,

Snortin’ with its big ol’ snout,

Followed by a SQUEAL!

As it became the ape’s next meal,

Chowing down on its meat,

Startling a pack of wild geese,

Defecating as they flee,

Into a midst of shady trees,

Oh, what a tasty treat!

POW! went a shotgun,

Sending the Sasquatch on the run,

Shaking the ground with a plunge,

Smashing trees as it trudged,

Oh dear, what have they done?

There’s no escaping the Bigfoot’s grudge,

He’ll devour them for lunch!

“Show yourself varmint!” they called,

Trembling with weapons drawn,

Unaware that they’d be mauled,

Blinded by a deathly fog.

Then came a stench so foul,

Followed by a frightening growl.

“Out here they’ll never hear you scream!

So, there’s just no need.

It’s only fate you see,

That you’re here to nourish me.”

Then they fell victim to the savage beast,

Oh, what a scrumptious feast.

“Excuse me, may I have a bite?”

Asked a buzzard, quite polite.

“Sure.” The Sasquatch replied,

As the buzzard trembled in fright.

“May I ask what we’re dining on?”

“Humans, but don’t be alarmed.”

Great Scott! The buzzard thought.

“You know what, I’d rather not.”

“Nonsense!” The Sasquatch said.

“Dig in, or you’re next.”

The buzzard tried to fly,

But too late, oh how it cried,

As the Sasquatch grabbed its beak,

Twisting till’ it gave a shriek.

“What a fine appetizer you’ll make,

For my darling pet snake.”

Just another day at Crystal Lake.  

He awoke with a violent start, as if shot out of a cannon from his dream, like the dying wish of the late Hunter S. Thompson. The man was fortunately spared a tragic fall thanks to his recliner, that grounded him back to reality. 

“No more Joe Rogan show.” He spoke, grabbing the glass pipe of DMT from his cupholder and chucking it at the wall.

           The pipe shattered, much like his grasp of reality after inhaling its packed contents into his lungs. The man thought he was a buzzard for fuck’s sake! His beak had been twisted off and he had been fed to the sasquatch’s pet. His darling snake. It was too violent, too savage to comprehend. Was there some sort of underlying message behind all of this? What if the sasquatch symbolized the American Dream, which threatened to crush a Serbian immigrant like him, if he didn’t have enough grit to achieve it? And the serpent symbolized the devil perhaps, whom people sold their soul to, just to have a taste of the American Dream. That explained the scandals going down south in Hollywood. Up here in Pismo Beach, he was free from such storms thankfully.

           Oskar Vukoslav was his name, at least according to the I.D. he now held in his hand. This was indeed reality, and he finally remembered his name. The sand on his feet did not comfort him at this hour. He had no memory of walking on the beach. The surf roared outside his patio, the only sound he heard now besides his frantic heart beating. The ocean gave no answers.

“I need new friends.” He spoke absently, standing up.

           Americans still befuddled him, even now that he was a legal immigrant of the United States. The rumors were true about California. It was a strange place with strange people in his eyes. Hell, if this was what people smoked to find their answers here, no wonder they were a bit loony. The last thing Oskar wanted was to be pushed over the edge, like some of the drifters he’d seen at the bus stops, babbling on at things that weren’t there, under the spell of a schizophrenic episode.

           The DMT came from a local professor that worked at Cal Poly University. After years of being involved in a gang within his home country, Oskar sought out something that would perhaps allow him to feel empathy again, and be a kinder man. Also not to mention God forbid, remorse for the terrible things he’d done in the past. This drug however was nothing of the sort, except punishment perhaps for the crimes he’d committed.

           Maybe MDMA would be his only hope of experiencing empathy again. If that didn’t work, he had no idea what would. Perhaps the nutty professor would have that in his chemical collection too. Lord help the man if he was giving drugs to his students as well.

           Oskar worked as a repairman/custodian for the university. He was a jack of all trades, electrician, plumber, you name it. The backbone that kept the university running properly. Students never messed with him. This stemmed from an altercation Oskar had when he first got his job.

           Oskar heard shouting from the woman’s locker room. The sounds echoing from there were too savage to be from a student. So, he left his cleaning supplies on the basketball court and quietly let himself in.

           There he was, a rabid tweaking drunkard waving a knife at a lone college student, who had just finished taking her shower.

“Who let sewer rat in?” Oskar spoke, startling them both.

“Maybe you got somethin’ you can loan me mister.” The crazed bastard said, eyes glazed over from hard liquor and methamphetamine.

           He had snuck into the gym in the early morning and napped under the bleachers which hid him from view. Although the stench of his living standards was not hidden well and led to Oskar’s first assigned task of the day; drenching the whole gym with cleaning chemicals until the source of the smell was located and fumigated. 

“Brother, I clean messes for living.” Oskar replied with a double meaning.

           One, who in their right mind would ask a custodian for a loan? And two, Oskar could easily dispose of him. The right chemical compounds would leave behind no trace of his flesh or bones.

           The distraction was long enough for the college student to deliver a sudden kick to the crazed bastard’s family jewels. His knife flew out of his hand, followed by a blood-curdling squeal. That was the sound of a man whose jewels had been launched firmly into his throat. Oskar followed with a swift knuckle sandwich, putting the sewage rat out of his misery.

“Breath smell like sewage too.” Oskar said, getting a chuckle out of the college student.

           Her name was Sienna, and she had quickly retrieved the fallen knife. She had wrapped herself in a towel now as well, sparing herself some dignity. It would be a long night for them once law enforcement arrived.

           He dragged the man out of the locker room and dropped him in his janitorial rolling cart to be disposed of. The police picked him up soon after.  

2

           The doorbell rang, startling him from his thoughts. Oskar had never been a jumpy man, especially at his current age of 35. However, DMT had a way of breaking the bravest of men if they weren’t prepared for it. Who would be ringing his doorbell at this hour?

           Oskar grabbed his Glock 45 from a cabinet and crept towards his front door. If he had wandered onto the beach without knowing, who knew who or what he possibly disturbed. Or, what if the doorbell was all in his head? Just an auditory hallucination brought on by his recent experience.

“I did not order DoorDash!” He snapped.

           Sweet Jesus. Was this the kind of rambling he heard from drug fiends typically? It was time for him to grab a glass of hard liquor to ground himself back to Earth and calm his frazzled nerves.

“It’s S-S-Sienna.” A nervous voice squeaked on the other side of the door.

           Oskar opened the door just a sliver, enough for his eye and the eye of his gun to peek through.

“What are you doing out at this hour little girl? Did Sewer Rat return?” Oskar asked.

           Sienna nervously stepped to the side, away from his gun’s aim.

“It’s Professor Harding.” She spoke.

“The Nutty Professor. What about him?” Oskar asked.

“He was killed, earlier today.” Sienna replied.

“That’s unfortunate. But why not wait until class to tell me?” Oskar replied.

“Because…I think we both knew him for the same reason.” Sienna said.

“What are you insinuating little girl?” Oskar hissed. “Police with you?”

           Oskar hated that his apartment complex did not put peepholes on their doors. He would have to install one himself soon enough. Sienna quickly shook her head, and he opened the door for her. She timidly let herself in, warily watching his gun.

“Watch your step and keep shoes on.” He said.

           Sienna saw the reason why soon enough.

“I’m not a big fan of what he supply. Probably what got him killed.” Oskar said, pouring himself a shot of whiskey.

“The cops might question us soon.” Sienna said, stopping him in his tracks.

           Of course, being as disoriented as he was, he hadn’t considered that yet. Oskar left his whiskey glass where it stood and quickly cleaned up the leftover mess from his pipe.

“I saw someone watching my house earlier. They made us leave our dorms. I’m not sure if it was an undercover cop, or worse.”

“And you came here?” Oskar snapped, emerging from the bathroom.

           He felt the world suddenly tilt on him. Sienna swallowed hard.

“I didn’t…know where else to go.”

“What did you mean by; worse than an undercover cop?” Oskar asked.

“I mean, what if the killer is going after Mr. Harding’s customers now? What if Mr. Harding ripped him off and he’s trying to get his supply back? Or worse, trying to get even with his customers too?” Sienna replied.

“That sounds a little paranoid.” Oskar said.

“I’m not paranoid.” Sienna replied.

“Little girl, I can see my reflection in those glazed saucers you call eyes.”

           Sienna sheepishly turned away.

“What did he give you?” Oskar asked.

“MDMA and mushrooms. I wouldn’t have taken them earlier if I knew we were all going to be sent home from our dorms.” Sienna replied.

“You might be right about police, but phantom man watching you is just hallucination.” Oskar said.

“I k-know what I saw.” Sienna said.

“Hallucination.” Oskar said, waving her off. “DMT he gave me, made me think I’m buzzard. Bigfoot squash and feed me to pet snake. Time to wash away delusions.” He continued, downing his glass of whiskey.

           Maybe he was right. Perhaps the man scoping her house was only in her imagination, brought on by the mushrooms after she heard about the professor.

“Can I?” She asked, gesturing to his whiskey bottle.

           Oskar looked at her with the hesitance of a disappointed father. She was used to it by now, always looking younger than she really was.

“I’m twenty-two.” Sienna said.

“That what you tell bouncer at club?” Oskar replied.

           Sienna rolled her eyes and dug out her I.D. to show him.

“Mc’lovin’ had I.D. too.” Oskar said.

“Seriously…” She giggled.

           It felt good to laugh, but the relief was short-lived.

“I just need enough to calm down. Maybe I did see something that wasn’t there.” Sienna said.

           They drank and watched the ocean roaring outside, waiting for the police to come knocking on the door. The two of them grew tired soon enough and Oskar went to bed, while Sienna took the couch. Her memory was rather hazy by then. She had no memory of wandering into Oskar’s room soon after, a weepy mess after the alcohol made her sad about life. Oskar let her share the bed with him, but told her not to get any ideas.

           After he fell asleep, she cuddled and hugged him, just wanting to fall asleep in the warm embrace of someone.

3

           A frightened moan awoke him in the early afternoon. He looked up to see Sienna, staring down the barrel of a shotgun.

“Oh, what scandal have I stumbled upon here?” The man snickered.

“It’s n-n-not what it looks like.” Sienna stuttered, at whom she thought was an undercover officer.

“You’re not police officer, are you?” Oskar spoke.

“Afraid not.” The man replied.

           Sienna went pale. She was right after all, something a clever student like her would normally relish in. Yet, she wasn’t gloating. Instead, her hands clung onto Oskar’s left arm, too frightened to let go.

“Let’s go for a drive, shall we?” The man said.

“Oh God…” Sienna whimpered.

           That was likely the last thing the professor heard before meeting his demise. Could they muster the courage to be each other’s saviors again? This test would be rather daunting to conquer in comparison.