|buy prints of select halfsquatch photographs at etsy or dawanda. (prints of all photographs are available upon request)||day 24
Tucky was in the bar at the lodge – Der Gasthaus — telling his Sasquatch story again, to Jeremy and a newly arrived group of Sasquatch hunters and investigators, when Bob Richman walked in.
“Tucky, could I have a word with you? Alone?” Bob asked.
“A word? I dunno, Bob. Guess that’ll depend on what the word is, hey guys?” Tucky laughed, but was quickly silenced by the somber look on Bob’s face. “Sure, buddy, we can talk. Let’s go.”
In his office, Tucky unlocked the file cabinet beside his desk and pulled out a bottle of whisky. He took a swig from the bottle and offered it to Bob, who sat across from him. Bob shook his head no. “Gee, Bob. You know I’d love to help you out, hey buddy? But I can’t do it. The wheels are in motion.”
“You can stop them – the wheels,” Bob said.
“You gone all animal rights on me?” Tucky’s eyes narrowed to focus. Even in his inebriated state he could read Bob’s panic.
“It’s not that. It’s just… it’s just not right. To have her stuffed and gawked at.”
“What the hell should I do with her? The thing’s a gold mine.” Tucky snapped his fingers. “That it? The money? You want in, buddy?”
“No, no, no. Like I said, I just don’t think it’s right. Just give her a proper burial. We’ll drive her out to Teslin, by the lake. C’mon, Tucky. Just do me this favour. We’ve known each other a long, long time.”
Tucky chuckled. “That we have, my friend.”
“Then please. Just this one thing.”
“No siree Bob!” Tucky keeled over, laughing at his own joke. “I’m sendin’ the samples to Edmonton for the tests first thing tomorrow and then it’s gonna get really crazy.”
“Please.” Bob was white, his voice no more than a murmur.
Tucky was no longer listening. “Yup. It’s gonna get really crazy, hey buddy?”