Sasquatch
is out for an afternoon stroll in Husset Park. He stops at the foot of
a grassy hill to admire a group of wild sunflowers. Suddenly a foam
kickball rolls over the hill, coming to a stop at his feet. He picks it
up, studying it for a moment, then he turns and begins to walk towards
the gazebo.
“Hey what gives!” comes a voice from behind him.
Sasquatch turns to see scruffy boy in a woman’s dress and a battered
silk top hat standing at the top of the hill, his hands on his hips. He
studies the boy with large, soft eyes, tilting his head to one side and
huffing softly.
“That’s our ball,” the boy says, haphazardly cartwheeling down the hill
and coming to a stop at Sasquatch’s feet, “Hand it over.”
Sasquatch looks down at the ball, and then hugs it to his chest. The
boy furrows his brow and glances over his shoulder. From over the hill
comes the sound of children shouting, along with something that sounds
like the high pitched squeal of a pig. The boy begins creeping
towards Sasquatch, wringing his hands. Sasquatch squints his eyes and
bares his gums, hugging the ball even closer.
Sasquatch
is out for an afternoon stroll in Husset Park. He stops at the foot of
a grassy hill to admire a group of wild sunflowers. Suddenly a foam
kickball rolls over the hill, coming to a stop at his feet. He picks it
up, studying it for a moment, then he turns and begins to walk towards
the gazebo.
“Hey what gives!” comes a voice from behind him.
Sasquatch turns to see scruffy boy in a woman’s dress and a battered
silk top hat standing at the top of the hill, his hands on his hips. He
studies the boy with large, soft eyes, tilting his head to one side and
huffing softly.
“That’s our ball,” the boy says, haphazardly cartwheeling down the hill
and coming to a stop at Sasquatch’s feet, “Hand it over.”
Sasquatch looks down at the ball, and then hugs it to his chest. The
boy furrows his brow and glances over his shoulder. From over the hill
comes the sound of children shouting, along with something that sounds
like the high pitched squeal of a pig. The boy begins creeping
towards Sasquatch, wringing his hands. Sasquatch squints his eyes and
bares his gums, hugging the ball even closer.
“Gimme it!” the boy cries, darting forward and taking hold of the ball, “Gimme it you dumb stupid idiot!”
He roars and begins to gnaw on Sasquatch’s furry hand. Sasquatch grunts
and bulges his eyes, resisting. The boy begins kicking him in
hard the shins with his wingtip shoes, driving them in past the thick
fur and deep into the bone again and again. Finally Sasquatch moans,
loosening his grip, and stumbles back. The boy wrenches the ball away
from him, and beginning to laugh insanely, dashes off over the ridge,
hiking up his dress with one hand as he goes.
“I got it you guys I got it!” comes his voice from the other side.
The sound of cheering fills the air, followed by another piercing
squeal. Sasquatch stands still for a time, stroking the fur on his
chin. Then he begins to climb up the hill. Upon reaching the top of the
hill Sasquatch sees a group of children playing a game of kickball in
the meadow below.
Sasquatch gives a howl of delight and begins galloping down the hill.
He reaches home plate just as the ball is pitched and punts it away
with all his strength, giving out a great whoop. It bounces out a long
way across the field and some bike paths, bouncing off a tree and
crashing down into a nearby ravine.
“What the heck!” shouts the pasty scarecrowlike boy at the plate,
baring his buck teeth grinding his foot into the sand. “What the heck!”
“Oh come on!” says top hat boy from the pitchers mound.
“I think he wants to play.” says a businesslike girl in a purple vest and slacks.
“Don’t let him play! He’ll ruin everything!” a fat boy called Little
Ricky shouts at them from the ravine as he searches for the ball.
“Just let him do one, Jerry, then maybe he’ll go away.” squeals the pigfaced boy in a baseball cap, rolling in the mud.
“Oh all right.” Jerry sighs, tipping his tophat forward and winding up for the pitch.
Swinging his arm forward, he sends the ball skittering towards
Sasquatch, who dances eagerly just in front of home plate. He draws his
leg back, grunts, and strikes the ball with such force that it soars
over a tall fence at the rear of the park, continuing on until it
disappears over the horizon. The children stand gape-mouthed for a
moment, their hands at their sides. Suddenly the girl in the purple
vest falls to her knees and breaks into tears, pounding the ground with
her fists.
“No! No! No!” She sobs.
“Arrrgghhh!” Jerry shouts, stomping and kicking at the dirt. “Arrrgghhh!”
“Way to go genius.” says the pigfaced boy, shaking his head as he rummages through a nearby dumpster for scraps.
“Told you so!” teases Little Ricky, “Told you he would ruin everything, idiot!”
“Shut up fatty!” screams Jerry as he heaves his glove, which strikes Ricky in the thigh with a wet slap.
“MOOOOOM!” Little Ricky shouts, running towards a row of nearby houses.
Sasquatch stands at home plate, wrinkling his nose and swatting
carelessly at a fly as it buzzes around his head. Standing with their
arms crossed, the children scowl at him menacingly. Jerry paces behind
Sasquatch’s back with a length of ragged pipe clutched in his hand. The
threat of violence hangs heavy in the air. Suddenly Jerry tosses the
pipe away and begins walking towards the houses.
“This is stupid. Come on you guys,” he motions to the others, “let’s go to my Grandma’s and watch Lethal Weapon again.”
The children nod their heads and begin trudging across the field. Sasquatch mimics their nodding and begins to follow as well.
“No!” Jerry says, whipping around furiously, and pushing Sasquatch away, “I didn’t say YOOOOU! YOUU can’t come with us.”
“You’re dumb and your face is dumb.” the pigfaced boy snorts, scooping up a tuft of grass and beginning to chew it ravenously.
“Yeah,” agrees the girl in the purple dress, dabbing at her eyes and sniffling. “Dumb.”
The children turn and walk away. Sasquatch stands looking after them until they disappear into one of the houses.
Moments later, he makes his way back to the gazebo. Night is coming on
and the park is filled with the gentle humming of insects. Upon
reaching the gazebo, Sasquatch lets out a great sigh and flops down on
one of the picnic tables. Turning his head to one side, he watches a
spider as it completes a web it has been spinning near one of the
pillars. Upon finishing, the spider retires to a darkened corner,
waiting. Almost immidiately, a horsefly buzzes into the web. The hungry
spider darts out, eager to devour this freshly caught trophy.
As the spider sinks it’s hairy mandibles into the horsefly’s flank,
Sasquatch imagines he can hear the tiny screams. He imagines he can
feel the agonizing flashes of pain arcing into the insect brain. He
imagines great geysers of thick black blood, spraying out into the
lamplit night. Achingly, he reaches toward the web, a silent prayer
pulsing on his lips.
In a matter of moments the fly is dead.
Sasquatch closes his eyes, and wills the world away.