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hs76150.jpgbuy prints of select halfsquatch photographs at etsy or dawanda. (prints of all photographs are available upon request) day 76

On what was to be the last night of Tucky and Bob’s trip, the Lady Sasquatch led Bob down the river and up into the woods where she’d fashioned a home. Part tent and part cave, she’d dug and burrowed into the sloped ground and extended the living area with sturdy branches. He climbed in behind her.

She had cleared the ground of small rocks and twigs. The floor was earth. She’d stripped the base of the two skyscraper trees that poked out of her home. She moved a strategically placed boulder to reveal a cache of berries. She presented a handful to Bob, who ate them readily then questioned if he should have.

She sat and motioned to Bob to sit beside her. He lowered himself to the ground. The Lady Sasquatch stroked his leg and cuddled his head in the nook under her arm. He nuzzled his face in her chest hair. He was both frightened and aroused. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed something familiar – the shiny beer can he’d given her to drink days earlier, the one she’d drank from then spit out the beer.

Bob looked up at her. He held her gaze as he stabbed his chest with his finger. “Bob,” he said. “My name is Bob.” He spoke louder than usual, the way people spoke when introducing themselves to a retarded person or someone very, very old.

“Bob,” he repeated. “Bob.”

“Bob,” the Lady Sasquatch said.

Bob clapped his hands and squealed. “Yes!” he said. “Bob! I’m Bob!” Then he pointed at the Lady Sasquatch. “You? You?”

“You?” the Lady Sasquatch mimicked.

“No, no. Bob.” He stabbed his chest with his finger once more. “You? Who are you?” He turned the finger to her.

The Lady Sasquatch paused. She thumped a hand against her chest. “Eh-lan. Eh-lan.”

“Eh-lan,” Bob said. The Lady Sasquatch smiled. Bob contemplated this. “Oh, Helene! Like Helen, but French!” She snuggled him up under her arm once more. It was in that moment that Bob knew he wasn’t going home.

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                                                                                                                                                          ©2008 pamela klaffke