Transcribed from dictation, ADAM speaking--
You know, I'm beginning to understand what the Nokhontli mean when
they say that I'm bred to be an Orator. You must have noticed by
now how I've really gotten into telling this story. Normally I
don't talk this way; so formally, so structured, so dramatically.
We've often discussed how many primitive cultures pass on their
stories and myths by oral tradition. Well, the person who does
that in the Nokhon culture is an Awø'øta, Speaker, Orator.
They tell me that I've been bred to have the specific qualities
required for the job; good verbal memory, innate interest in
learning, appealing voice and a talent for oral presentations.
Makes sense, doesn't it? I've always been good with words and
language.
And that's why I'm getting off on telling this story...in the
oral tradition. So back to it.
We had a long trip ahead of us, including a detour so that I could
finally let you folks know that I was still alive.
Our plan was to find some NokhSo place from where I could make a
phone call, then head cross country to where the next Kha-rat would
be held three nights later. We had lots of time. Until a heavy
snowstorm hit us halfway down the mountain. We pushed on. I knew
if we just kept going downhill we'd eventually run across a road
somewhere.
Because we were leaving sasquatch society and heading into the land
of the hairless little Nokhso folk, I convinced Dagrolyt that it
would be best not to smear ourselves with stink. I told him that
it would generate a cultural misunderstanding that would be best to
avoid and he took my word for it. Although for Dagrolyt The idea
of deliberately going TOWARD the Nokhso world made him nervous, he
backed me up anyway.
Meanwhile, I had some anxieties of my own: while I was relieved to
have gotten through my purification ritual, I was now looking
forward to the up-and-coming Kha-rat with jittery nerves. Actually,
I was probably pestering Dagrolyt somewhat about how I was ever
going to take on those men--or women--at the Kha-rat. "But what
happens if I FAIL?" I'd whine, like some helpless little kid.
He shrugged, "Just do your best," was all he said. By then he was
getting a bit miffed at me for being such a wimp about a harmless
little porn-star debut and mortal combat with a chain of Bigfoot
bruisers, so I shut up. We didn't talk much on the way down the
mountain.
Farther downhill the wind finally slacked, snow came floating down
slow as big fluffy flakes and the landscape became beautiful instead
of white hell. The slope flattened out into open meadows and it felt
really good to finally get into stride.
We still weren't talking much, so it was pretty quiet except for
the rhythm of our Bigfoot big feet thump-squeaking through the
snow in a steady rhythm. Well, I couldn't resist that rhythm,
began to sing. Started with "Blue Suede Shoes".
Dagrolyt couldn't resist either, he had really fallen for the new
and exciting concept of myøsik, so after a couple of verses he
started singing too, imitating me--or rather, Elvis once removed--
in a rough approximation of English. Sounded pretty funny.
So I taught him how to do a harmony part, a duet. By the time we
hit the timberline we sounded pretty good, even clapping our hands
to the beat.
That was such a hit I had to teach him "Jailhouse Rock", with
all the "uh-hunhs" and "hey-yaay"s. Wow, he loved it--Dagrolyt
always reacted to music like some major revelation, seeing God or
something. So we were making a lot of noise out there, walking
through the open countryside.
We'd just ended that song and were considering another when we
heard a distant voice call out in English: "Hey guys, let's hear
I'M ALL SHOOK UP!"
Dagrolyt dived into the snow like it was water and he was gone.
It was amazing, a 500-pound squatch had just disappeared, no trace.
I was looking around to see where he'd gone and also for whoever
it was who'd called out to us, but I seemed to be alone out there.
Then I heard human voices over the next hill, at least two men. We'd
probably been heard but not seen yet. Then I heard a rifle shot
over there, a loud blast and lots of echoes. Hunters.
I also heard Dagrolyt's muffled voice under the snow, "Hide, you
skyøma!"
"But where ARE you?"
He rose up out of the snow like a raging sea monster, grabbed me,
and threw us both into a spin that burrowed us under the snow so
fast I didn't even see it. There was even an air pocket for
breathing, which was nice.
"We don't let Nokhso see us!" he hissed at me, "They're too
dangerous!"
"Hey, not all Nokhsos are dangerous," I assured him.
"It only takes one."
I thought about whoever that was over there with his hunting
rifle. A nice guy...or Felix Sinsley? I shut up.
We heard the voices pass at a distance, too muffled by the snow
for me to pick up what they were saying. I was thinking it was
too bad, I could have asked for directions to...somewhere. They
were probably all right guys, I used to run into backpackers and
climbers all the time when I was hiking around myself. Come to
think of it, I used to hide from armed hunters back then too. Just
in case.
Later, Dagrolyt tried to teach me the snow-hiding trick. I could
sort of pull it off, but once again, it required a flow of haka to
do it well. You flow with the snow, y'know?
The farther down we went, the more NokhSo civilization tingled in
the air, especially the high-tension electric lines. We started
hearing diesel trucks far away on some highway, and then we came
to hiking trails, graveled logging roads, occasional sheds, rusted
shells of old cars abandoned out there, fences and finally--a
cabin beside a small lake.
I got excited about that, thinking if there was a telephone...
But I saw no wires, neither telephone nor electricity. Too far
out of town. There wasn't anyone living there at the time either,
probably a summer retreat and we were standing in the snow, so we
continued on. Left them some terrific Bigfoot prints.
Dagrolyt was reluctant to walk down the open roads, insisting that
cars could come upon us too fast, so we went through the woods.
There was no traffic anyway, but the snow was pretty deep by then
and we were leaving those famous footprints behind us everywhere
we went. It would be very easy for someone to track us.
I couldn't help feeling like a scared chicken being so furtive in
my own familiar human world, but since I had no clothes it seemed
necessary. If I'd been wearing my old checkered shirt and blue
jeans I would probably have just showed myself.
We came to a narrow gorge where the only reasonable way through
was to take the road, so we did. Sure enough, along came a car.
It was a modern jeep of some kind, lots of headlights, big tires,
4WD. There was no place for us to hide, so we just kept walking.
I gave a casual little wave as the jeep passed us, looked like
three guys inside.
They obviously hadn't noticed what we were until just then, it was
half-dark in that gorge, we were probably just black silhouettes
against the snow. It was only when they got so close that they
could tell we were both 8 feet tall and dressed in our own natural
fur coats.
Did they freak out, or what? We could hear one of them shouting
inside the car, "Hey, that's a fuckin BIGFOOT an' there's TWO of
'em!" The car accelerated to escape us, but too much and it
slid sideways out of control, spinning into the ditch beside the
road. So they were stuck.
I was tempted to lift the car out of the ditch for them, maybe
talk to them. Could be they had a cell phone, worth a try. But
as I approached their car the three guys started screaming and
gibbering to each other, absolutely terrified.
"Don't aggravate them, they just get dangerous, " Dagrolyt said,
"let's just keep going."
"Yeah, well, I could just lift the car free for them..."
I saw a pistol come up, aimed at me through the windshield. Lucky
for me the guy was too scared to shoot--probably afraid he'd just
piss me off, make me attack and bite his head off. I stopped,
backed up. We left.
I was slightly embarrassed about the episode, thinking: so this is
what it's like for squatches who run into humans. Oh, I knew that
already, I'd more or less experienced it before, but not with a
brother Nokhon. And back then I'd had my clothes, my wallet with
cash and plastic, cell phone, a car--I was even famous--but still
people freaked out when I showed up.
It was winter, so dark came early. We felt better about travelling
fast in the dark, knowing it was harder for anyone to see us, while
we squatches have better night vision than you puny Nokhsos do.
We'd followed the sound of traffic from a distance and suddenly
there we were: looking through the trees at a busy 2-lane highway,
cars and trucks whooshing by in the dark, red taillights, white
headlights.
I was thinking "cool, now we're getting somewhere," but just as I
would step toward the road I froze...in terror.
I found myself seeing that scene with the eyes of a Nokhon for the
first time. An entirely different perception of the modern world I
had known almost all my life: that road was an endless web of all-
consuming skesk infection cutting Nature into little pieces; cars
were screaming black meteors of frightening velocity--obviously
dangerous--with twin suns in front and tails of red fire; I was aware
that evil Nokhso demons lurked inside them. It scared me, as it
should any Bigfoot, I felt an urge to panic and run away.
I'd been away from civilization for two months, but more than that,
I had been--and was still--in another reality. That road seemed
completely foreign to me, as if I didn't understand what cars were,
or what kind of alien things drove them.
Until I noticed a way-sign identifying that road as "Interstate
Highway 2" and my perspective flipped a 180 back to being Adam
Leroy Forest, the tame Bigfoot from Monroe, who recognized exactly
where he was on the Washington State road map. I was home again,
reality-wise.
I looked at Dagrolyt and saw that he was very nervous. It was the
first time I ever saw him look afraid, the whites of his eyes and
all that. But he wasn't about to run. I had to admire him for
being so brave when even I, familiar with the Nokhso world, had
been just about to panic.
Okay, so now I was supposed to be the guru. All I had to do was
figure out where to find a telephone. I had a general idea of where
we were--nowhere near a town --but I was sure there were lots of
small pit stops along Highway 2 on the way up to ski resorts at
Stevens Pass.
I considered waving down a car and seeing if I could borrow a cell
phone. But we'd already seen how that could be dangerous in this
weather, if a driver freaked out at full Highway speed because he
saw a wild woolly naked Bigfoot trying to stop his car...and then
maybe he wouldn't even have a phone anyway. Not a good plan.
I decided we'd follow the road along inside the forest until we
came to a gas station or a restaurant, bar, store, whatever. We
went about three miles and there it was: a seedy little wayside
restaurant, Burt's Diner & Burgerama.
I was glad it wasn't a tavern. I could just see us two Bigfoot
monsters arriving at a sleazy hangout for drunk hunters and
redneck good-ol'-boys. Shotguns in their pick-ups, you know?
The three vehicles parked in front, however, WERE pickups.
The diner was on the other side of Highway 2 from us. Dagrolyt
was not happy being this close to a busy highway and all this
Skesk-stuff and he was not going to like dodging cars to cross
the road. It was snowing, slippery, there was even a slight rush
of traffic going on just then, lots of cars with skis on their
roof-racks. We'd also have to cross the road back again to get to
where we were going after this, so I suggested he wait for me in
the woods. He agreed gladly.
I waited for a good break in the traffic, since I didn't want to
be seen. Then I ran over and around behind the building, keeping
away from the half-busy highway. Sneaked up to the front to peek
inside.
Theoretically, I could just walk in there, explain myself and ask
to borrow a phone. But first I needed to make sure that wasn't a
stupid idea, so I looked into the steamy window to see how many
people were in there, trying to figure my plan of action.
Boy, they sure did LOOK like rednecks in there: six men, all wearing
lumberjack clothes, probably loggers, sitting around drinking beer,
kinda good-old-boy-like. One man more behind the counter, frying
food. Just the crowd I'd hoped to avoid. At least I didn't see any
shotguns handy.
The other plan had been to sneak in and borrow the phone without
asking, but then I saw the old pay-phone hanging on the wall...and
I sure didn't have any coins on me.
"Well, if they do freak and run," I told myself, "I'll just borrow
some coins and the phone while I've got the place to myself."
Truth is I was scared of getting shot again. My wound had just
healed from the last time I had been around NokhSo guns and I'd
already had one pistol pointed at me that day. Some folks didn't
always wait to find out what was really happening: see a squatch--
Blast It!
But I had to do it. Opened the glass door and stepped in...then
had to duck to fit under the ceiling, which was about a foot too
low for me. I went down on one knee just inside the door, so that
I could turn my head for maximum visibility.
Everyone there had turned to see who was coming into this isolated
place on a snowy, stormy evening like this. Maybe they were
expecting friends. But they sure weren't expecting me.
Seven men, sitting or standing, all frozen, paralyzed, nobody
moving nothing. Beer bottles poised, soup spoons hovering, burgers
bitten but no chewing going on. It was kind of comical, the looks
on their faces--you can imagine. I raised my hand in the Peace
Sign, like in the 60's, but they didn't seem to get it.
"Good evening, Gentlemen," I said in my veddy most proper English,
"My name is Adam Leroy Forest, you may have heard of me: I'm the
famous Monroe Bigfoot."
If anything, they seemed even more paralyzed. Then they reacted.
"Gaw damm, you're...you're..." one of the most tough-looking among
them sputtered, "---you're Smokey Chesterton's Singing Sasquatch!"
That was a surprise, this guy knew about me playing music with
Guesswork. "Uh, well, yeah, that's me!"
"Ain't you supposed to be dead?" another asked. "I saw on TV that
you'd been shot and you've been missing for so long everybody
thinks you're dead."
"Yeah, well, that's why I'm here. Just got back. Got to call my
folks in Monroe and tell them I'm all right. Can I borrow the
phone?"
"To call your folks? Hell yes! Just come in and close the door,
son, the snow's blowing in!"
I looked at the pay phone, turned to the men. "Could anyone loan
me a quarter? As you can see..."
An older man smiled at me and noted, "...you've got no pockets.
Don't matter, that phone don't work anyway."
I think I slumped. "Oh, crap..."
The man fished a cell phone out of his jacket, handed it to me,
"Here, son, know how to use one of these?"
"Yes, I've had one just like it. Thanks a lot." I punched in
your number and went stooped over to a corner of the diner for a
little privacy.
I don't need to tell you about the call; you're the ones I called.
But jeez, did I feel better after I'd made it--the thought of
what you'd all been going through on my account had been gnawing
at me for the last two months.
Of course, when I was done talking my eyes and nose were running
so much I couldn't see or talk. Those tough-looking men were
pretending they didn't see me crying.
"You mean that's the Bigfoot from Guesswork?" "Well, how many
other Bigfoots do you know about?" "Gaw damm, here in OUR
restaurant!"
I went down on one knee beside their table to return the phone and
thank them, especially for not freaking out on me.
"So howya doin, son?" The older man who'd loaned me his phone was
kind of grizzled and unshaven, kind of reminded me of an old squatch
I'd met. He gave me a sympathetic nod as I wiped my eyes.
"Oh...I'm fine. Just gets kind of emotional convincing Mom you're
not dead, you know."
"Gaw damm, I guess! Want a beer, son?"
"Oh, uh, thanks, no. I've got to go."
"Man, excuse me for saying, but you ain't got no shoes on. You'll
freeze your balls out there." That was a younger guy.
"Hell, he ain't got no CLOTHES on, dummy! That's his FUR."
"Awwh? I thought that was a gorilla suit!"
"Naw, it's my birthday suit," I told him. They all laughed at
that. "And it's not especially cold for me anyway. See you guys,
and thanks again."
"Sure you won't have a beer--or a cup of coffee?" the man behind
the counter offered, who might've been Burt, this being Burt's
Diner.
"Coffee?" I guess my eyes lit up. "...oh, thanks but I've got a
friend waiting."
"Who, another Bigfoot?" It was an enthusiastic question.
They were all looking at me and I could see that this was going to
be A Great Moment in their lives: the night a Real Live Bigfoot
walked into their hangout...
"Well, don't tell anyone, but yeah."
"Gaw damm, gaw damm, ain't this somethin!"
"Hey, uh...invite him over! We're buying!"
For a second I considered it. These men had been great, they'd
acted like decent men, loaned me a phone, been sympathetic, even
brave. They were a credit to the NokhSo race, nothing like the
ignorant rednecks I had dreaded running into. I was grateful to
them. It might even be fun inviting Dagrolyt over for a cup of
coffee, who knows, maybe even a beer. It would certainly have been
an experience for him.
But when I thought of Dagrolyt I also found myself thinking like a
Nokhon, suddenly suspicious of NokhSo motives. Like greed, a wild
Bigfoot was probably worth a lot of money. A secret phone call,
here come the reporters, the hunters, the police. Lights, cameras,
guns--who knows what sort of Skesk they would use to bag a couple
of sasquatches? I'd been through it, I knew.
So I let it go. I could take my chances that these men were all
right, but could not risk Dagrolyt's freedom. I thanked those men
and left while the going was good.
As I was about to go out the door, Burt handed me a styrofoam
thermos. "Here, take some coffee for the road, for both of you" he
said. He'd evidently seen my eyes light up before.
I accepted and thanked him gratefully, but couldn't help gazing
wistfully at the pie rack on the wall behind him. He noticed,
turning to see what I so obviously lusted for.
"You want some pie too?"
"Oh no, I couldn't..." I started to stupidly say, then changed that
to, "oh man, I'd love some. Two pieces maybe. I could pay for it
later..."
A protest came from the men, "Hell, WE'LL pay for it, give him a
whole pie!" "Yeah, TWO pies, them Bigfoots are BIG!"
"Apple or cherry?" Burt asked.
I hesitated, years of being polite, you know, then went for it:
"Apple AND cherry, please," I said. The men cheered.
Burt packed pies and coffee into a paper bad and handed it to me,
made a little joke about it: "Fast food to go for the Bigfoot,
business as usual."
"Thanks, you guys."
They all waved as I left. Once again, I was thankful that I hadn't
been smeared with squatch-stink, probably would have been much
less popular.
Dagrolyt was clearly relieved to see me returning from the evil
clutches of the dread NokhSoli O'o bakhl. He was astounded at how
well I'd succeeded.
He was especially interested in the paper bag I had. He could smell
the ingredients before I had arrived.
"Those NokhSoli weren't so bad," I said, "they even invited us both
to come over and join them for a warm drink."
"Oh?" He was obviously intrigued. "Do you think that would be
safe?" Hell, he was tempted.
"No, too much traffic, too many variables. And besides, I've got
drinks and food right here. Let's go."
We wanted to put some distance between us and the noisy highway so
that we could enjoy the little party we had in the paper bag without
being stressed and nervous about being spotted.
We found a nice spot deep in the woods and "took a coffee break".
The coffee was still warm but not too hot, which I thought best for
Dagrolyt's first-ever experience with a hot drink in a styrofoam
cup. It tasted great, coffee with milk and he liked it.
But the pies were something else. We had two whole pies in aluminum
plates, which I broke into halves so that we could each taste both
cherry and apple. Neither of us had eaten much in the last few days,
so we were hungry enough to eat anything by then. But these were
not "anything", this was Manna from Heaven.
I liked mine, of course, I've always been a sucker for pies and
cakes, sweet things in general. Tasted wonderful, mmm-mm, smack
gobble. But for Dagrolyt it was Revelation of St John The Divine.
He tried a little bite of cherry--and just plain froze as the impact
of the taste really hit him, eyes wide in surprise. For a moment I
thought he was going to spit it out, but he swallowed. What did come
out were tears. Then he ate the rest of it slowly, respectfully, as
if he was receiving communion.
Actually, half a pie each was enough for then. I think we'd both
have puked if we ate more so fast, so we took the rest with us as
we went skipping back up into the mountains on a wonderful sugar
buzz.
We ran through the snowstorm all night, it was beautiful. Ate the
rest of the pies just after dawn and pushed on, suddenly finding us
on the crest of the last mountain in our path. We had made record
time and were home before nightfall.
It was snowing in the little meadow I thought of as Eden. Misma and
Myrøla, Dagrolyt's women greeted us, embracing him--and even me, for
the first time ever.
We all stayed in the big stone bakhl then. It could be easily
sealed against the wind and snow, but even for us squatches it was
cold when we weren't moving. Dagrolyt was Sha-haka, so he was
allowed to make fire for wizardly purposes, so I suggested we make
a wizardly bonfire to make the place cozy and warm.
"That's forbidden," he told me, "Of course I'd do it anyway, but
the smoke is the problem, impossible to hide. The Alutna could
see it, or even NokhSo hunters."
"Don't you ever get tired of living your life in hiding?"
"Hmm. Never thought of it that way. I consider it Avoiding, not
Hiding. It's more like a sport than a hardship."
"Yeah, but now we have to freeze our butts."
"No we don't. Oh, girls..?"
We all cuddled up to keep warm. That was very nice, since the
girls were much friendlier with me now that I'd been Purified.
It was also nice that Dagrolyt and his women didn't smear themselves
with stink when they were at home, only for getting "dressed up"
and going out where they might meet other Nokhontli. But that meant
we all could smell each other's natural smells and since We'd
arrived the night before full moon, Misma and Myrøla were really ripe
with shyøma just then. Made it HARD to just cuddle up.
The girls were horny, I was horny. I'd learned that Nokhon sexual
morality was totally non-possessive, so that there was no problem of
whose girl friend or wife you might be having fun with, but there
was still a rule of shyøma etiquette:
Dagrolyt had explained it, "We do not yøramma our women for the three
days before Ma-mløt-klys because we want to store that haka within
us, to be at maximum potency for the Kha-rat..."
"Wait, wait! Did you call it haka?"
"Why yes. That's haka too, of course."
"Of course nothing, why didn't you say so sooner?"
"Does it make a difference?
"Why, maybe, it..." Well, there it was: I was a virgin. I didn't
know if it made any difference or not.
I looked over at Misma and Myrøla with hormones raging, wondering how
much of what I was feeling was haka. Damn they looked cute!
"Sorry, but we can't be had just now," Misma told me, "because the
Ma-mløt-klys is tomorrow night. But then we'll be glad to help you
through your initiation. Tee hee!"
Jeez, when I think of what I'm going to have to tell about next,
I have to wonder just how many people are going to hear this
recording. Melly for sure and I just know that the IPR is going
to want a copy of it and the UW and it could even end up published
in Anthropology Journal, National Geographic, Playboy...
Because what I've got to tell you about next are the embarrassingly
juicy details of sasquatch culture, as experienced with my own
body. In other words, my own private sex-life, which gets pretty
personal. I'd been the innocent virgin guy up to now, no skin
off my...whatever.
Oh well, I've always wanted to be a field anthropologist and what
could ever beat this?
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