The Truth Isn't Out There...But It Should Be

There was a news story during the last week or so that grabbed my attention like no other. No, it wasn't all of the Olympics hooplah, although I have been passionately following that (and not just for volleyball super-fox Kerri Walsh). It was three little words that appeared on one of my bored-time websites: "Bigfoot Corpse Found." Two bigfoot hunters in Georgia claimed to have bagged an honest-to-God sasquatch and were going to present their findings at a press conference the following day.

I knew it wasn't true. It couldn't be. I'm a rational person, plus I'm from the Show Me State, so I'm really in the camp of "incredible claims require incredible evidence". Every synapse I had
was firing "Bullshit!" when I heard about a frozen bigfoot being kept in a freezer. And yet, deep down in my heart of hearts, I wanted it to be true.

In fifth grade, I was obsessed with the Loch Ness Monster. I read every book about Nessie that I could get my nervous hands onto. I knew the history, the pictures, and more personal accounts than I care to admit. I wanted to go to Iverness, Scotland so badly just for the opportunity to waste a day sitting next to an ice cold lake filled with moss in the ever-present chance that the fabled kelpie would rise from the waves and grant me a personal candid interview. I've since outgrown Nessie and the likelihood of its exsistence. However, I still get pissed off when people film segments oon the Loch Ness Monster and show the infamous Surgeon's Photo as photographic proof that it is real. That picture is an admitted fake! Do some damn research! But I digress...

So, back to the latter-day Harry and the Hendersons. Deep down, that little kid inside of me perked up at the chance of bigfoot proof. I was never a big fan of the 'Foot; it always just seemed to easy to fake to me. As it turns out, my juvenile intuition proved to be all to true. The corpse was little more than a gorilla costume crammed into a freezer and the two cats who "found" it haven't been seen since. My only conclusion is that a real Bigfoot caught wind of what they were doing and called up his buddy:

"Hey, Frank. It's Marty."

"Hey, Marty, what's up, bra?"

"Have you seen this shit on the news? Two punks in Georgia claim that they caught one of us."

"Really? Alive or dead?"

"Dead, of course."

"No shit, I got a cousin that lives down there."

"Yeah well, don't bother calling him to find out if he's ok, because it's just some cocky motherfuckers trying to make a quick buck by stuffing a gorilla costume in a freezer. I'm getting so tired of this crap. They can't even get the appearance right. I don't look like a gorilla. They look more like gorillas than I do. I think I'm finally gonna do something about. I'm gonna track these sumbitches down and stuff their asses in a freezer and hold a press conference claiming to the bigfoot community that I have successfully captured the Great North American Douchebag. The difference? My corpses will be real."

"Well...you have fun with that, Marty. I'll talk to you later."

"Later, man."

(hangs up)

A man has to dream, doesn't he?