Hi all.

I see a lot of new faces on here, but some familiar ones as well. If you look back a-ways you'll see my author's name. Just FYI, I'm old-school pre-movie. TV verse- at least my version of it. To anyone who might be wondering, yes I'm still writing. No, I'm not making any promises about long unfinished WIP's. But this little fun tale did come up whilst I was lazing away a day in front of the computer. Hope you enjoy!

Dawn

John Tracy began to question his sanity.

Sane people didn't do what he was doing. When sane people had R&R from what inarguably was one of the toughest occupations on the planet (or above it, in his case) they went to resorts. They went to amusement parks, or museums, or to Italy for good food and beautiful women. And the fact of the matter was, again due to his occupation, John had hit a major sexual drought. But where was he?

He was hiking through the soaking wet woods of the Pacific Northwest.

More appropriately, he was now hunkered down in the mud behind a rotting, smelly log at sundown watching Gordon fiddle with one last piece of equipment. "You could help, you know."

"I could." John replied tartly as he felt his butt go completely numb. "But I won't."

"Eh, fine. Be that way." Gordon replied nonplussed as he returned to the night vision camera he was setting up. "But you keep it up and I'm not sharing the money with you."

"You do realize I don't care, right?" John hunkered down a little deeper inside his coat.

"Yeah, but I will usurp all the glory. I'll be famous."

"Great. Endorsement deals from Bass Pro Shops."

"And I'll be surrounded by adoring fans and beautiful women."

"I may be stereotyping here," John replied thoughtfully, "but I think the women you are going to attract with this particular little discovery are going to be of the hairy and toothless variety. Had you listened to me, we could be, right now, draped with beautiful creatures from Milan with names like Francesca or Arabella. Not Berta or the woman at the bait shop who insisted we call her 'Ma'."

"When did you get so picky?" Gordon replied self-righteously. "I thought Berta was a very attractive woman once you got past the fact that she was bald."

John knew that Gordon could be as shallow as anyone and was simply playing the Devil's Advocate. He decided to drop the argument as he caught sight of the camera Gordon had set up to record the in-camp activities. "Look, do we need that thing running all the time? We have been at this for a week and the most exciting thing we've captured on film is you peeing off a cliff."

Gordon flopped down beside him and picked up an infrared scanner. "I told you, it's all about the process. We're making a documentary, here. Not an action film."

"This is from you watching that 8mm flick, isn't it? About the witch thing?"

"How dare you insult my work like that? That was a crappy faux-documentary. This is science. Research!" Gordon looked suitably insulted for a moment before shrugging. "Though I did put in a little freak-out scene where I apologize to everyone and take full responsibility . . . in case you get eaten by a bear or something."

"Thanks."

Having grown up with Gordon, John was fully aware that his brother harbored a long unfulfilled desire to be a guest host on Wild Kingdom. He loved creatures of all shapes and varieties, but this particular fascination, John had never understood.

Bigfoot.

"C'mon Gord. We've got the GPS. We can hike in the dark, be back to the car by morning and on a plane to Europe tomorrow afternoon."

"No way! You agreed to come along."

"Just to make sure you don't get lost. Or arrested." John added under his breath. "Or committed."

It was also a desire of Gordon's to dress up in Sasquatch suit and scare the bejeezus out of unsuspecting campers at the RV sites or to show up at fast food restaurants. John didn't know and he chose not to ask.

"What is it with you? Why Bigfoot?"

"Why Bigfoot, you ask?" Gordon said dramatically. "I ask you, why NOT Bigfoot? Do you realize there have been reported Bigfoot sightings in every state in the U.S, except Hawaii and Rhode Island?"

"Rhode Island? Why not Rhode Island?"

"John, who in the hell would want to go to Rhode Island anyway?"

"It's a very nice state."

"Not if you're a Bigfoot enthusiast." Gordon replied as he dug around in his pack.

John wondered briefly if it were some coincidence that the people of Rhode Island didn't experience mass hallucinations or if Rhode Island was someplace you went if you didn't give two farts about Bigfoot.

As he looked on, Gordon finished the last part of his hunting ritual that John had to endure every night of this excursion. His brother unwrapped a stack of sandwiches and began winging them into the underbrush.

"Peanut butter on white bread." John sighed. "Why peanut butter?"

"Who doesn't like peanut butter?"

"Alan."

"Alan's not human."

"Neither is Bigfoot."

"Maybe Alan's the missing link."

"Then why are we sitting out here freezing our asses off? Just take Alan's picture and send it to the Enquirer."

"Look John," Gordon turned to face him and John felt the patented 'Gordon pep-talk' coming on. "We've got the tools and we've got the talent to boldly go where no man has gone before and win one for the Gipper."

"Don't watch T.V. with Dad anymore. It's wearing away your brain cells."

"I-" Gordon stopped dead. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Shhh!" Gordon said in a stage whisper. "It's coming from the east."

As Gordon turned, John heard it, too. There was the sound of sharp rhythmic smacks, as if someone was banging a stick on a tree. "What is that?"

"I've got something." Gordon nodded towards the infrared.

John peered over his shoulder. All he could see on the screen were the cool blues of the forest, the lighter colors outlining the forms of the forest vegetation. "It's your-"

John ended in a strangled squawk as he saw the form, taller and larger than any human could possibly be, pop up from behind a knoll outlined in the reds and yellows that represented life and heat on the small scanner.

"I don't believe it!" John said in an excited whisper. "Gord, that's it! You- oh, shit. "

It had moved closer, rather quickly. John had enough sense to grab the GPS as the creature advanced. He had seen enough. To his surprise, Gordon seemed to concur and the brother's beat a hasty retreat.

In the dark screen, all John could see were two fleeing backsides disappearing into the night.

On the monitor, Alan was laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes. "You freakin' chickens."

John glared at his brother still serving aboard Thunderbird 5. "Let's see how brave you are when you have a 400-lb ape man charging you."

Alan's only reply was to laugh even harder. Fighting a grin of his own, John looked at Gordon and then to their older brothers who were sitting on the couch in the lounge. Ever since their return from Oregon, his brothers had been hounding them about their excursion. Gordon had finally just let them watch for themselves.

The effect of their documentary was interesting, but not unexpected. Virgil's eyebrows were approaching his hairline as he tried not laugh and Scott sat slowly shaking his head. "You do realize this really isn't funny."

"Look, we chose to show you this when Dad and Grandma were not around for a reason." Gordon replied. "We got the snot scared of us, ran at least fifteen miles back to the car-"

"At full speed." John put in.

"-and we slept in the car." Gordon finished. "And the worst I had to endure was John's snoring."

"I don't snore."

He wasn't surprised when Gordon ignored him. "And then we went back in the morning and got all of our gear. All in all, it was a grand adventure."

"All except the infrared scanner." Virgil replied. "Where was that?"

"We didn't find it." Gordon lamented. "Our one piece of tangible evidence."

"An entire vacation wasted." John said.

"Aww, Johnny," Gordon batted his eyelashes and threw an arm around his shoulders. "You got to spend some quality time with me. And we found out Bigfoot likes peanut butter."

"Bigfoot, he says." Virgil said, looking to Scott. "He thinks he found Bigfoot."

"Found out opossums like peanut butter, sounds like."

"Squirrels. It was probably squirrels."

"They probably filmed this in someone's backyard. It was probably Fluffy the housecat."

"Laugh if you will." Gordon got up and disconnected his video recorder from the TV. "Scoff if you must. But I know what I saw. And John knows what he saw."

"In public I'll deny it I swear."

"Well, I'm off to share my new discovery with the online community." Gordon proclaimed. "Whaddya guys think of the Planter's Theory."

"Relax . . . go nuts." Virgil replied, straight-faced.

John snorted a laugh. "Choosy Bigfoots choose Jiff."

Alan was howling on the monitor again as Gordon turned to leave. He stopped midway and spun around again. "I've got it! Our next discovery, John."

"This ought to be good." Scott murmured.

"La Chupacabra."

"What?"

"The Mexican Goat Sucker! We-"

John didn't wait to hear anymore. He simply grabbed a pillow from the couch and proceeded to try and pound some sense into his brother.

The End