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hs21150.jpgbuy prints of select halfsquatch photographs at etsy or dawanda. (prints of all photographs are available upon request) day 21

There was no one in the showroom at B.R. Snow Machines when Dave walked in armed with his Sasquatch posters and handbills. Dave knew there was a bell on the counter by the till where Bob Richman would write up the paperwork for a sale or introduce excited winter travelers to their snowmobiling guide, but he avoided ringing it. He was nervous to see Rebecca’s dad after the trouble with the mummified cat and the crying thing that night which he didn’t understand at all.

He clomped around the showroom hoping the sound of his boots would alert Bob, Lisa — someone — to his presence. He grazed the body of a shiny new Arctic Cat with his hand and shivered. He thought about his cousin Jeff who lost his arm after snowmobiling drunk somewhere in Ontario. Dave had met him only once. He thought of the couple who froze to death in the woods the previous winter after running out of fuel in a remote area. And he thought of all the broken limbs and bandaged heads he’d seen throughout his life in classrooms at school and hobbling through the halls at the lodge.


“Oh. Yeah. Hi, Mr. Richman.”

“What can I do for you today? I don’t expect you’re interested in a top-of-the-line snow machine?” Bob chuckled. Dave jerked his hand away from the snowmobile as if it had charged him with an electric shock.

“No, I was… I was just putting these up and whatever – for my dad.” Dave walked over to where Bob stood behind the counter and handed him a Sasquatch promotional poster. Bob read it carefully, more than once. Dave studied a yellowed clipping from the 2005 Yukon Vacation Planner that was enlarged and taped to the counter. “Sometimes you feel the need for speed that only the raw, roaring power of a snow machine can satisfy….”

Tucky Thompson’s Sasquatch. Polaroids twenty dollars,” Bob read aloud. “One week only.”

“Oh. Yeah. He’s having her stuffed. You know, so he wants to, well—”

“Cash in.” Bob’s voice was cold.

Dave nodded apologetically. “Yeah. Cash in.”


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                                                                                                                                                          ©2008 pamela klaffke