The pair of Hairless Ones fascinated the Sasquatch.

 

     He had never observed them from this close before. They seemed slow and ill-suited to the forest... loud and bright, and pretty much oblivious to the world around them.

     He watched them catch fish in the river while the sun sank towards the trees. They seemed so blind, even in the afternoon light. On several occasions, he could have reached out and touched one as it walked right past him.

     From behind a big tree he watched as they built a fire and cooked their catch. The wonderful aroma combined with the security of the deepening shadows of night to draw him in even closer... right to the edge of the camp.

     Night fell and the sky filled with stars while they ate, talked and drank from dark bottles. The Sasquatch had seen those bottles many times, discarded along roadways.

     The receding moon was high when both of the Hairless Ones finally crept into the small colorful shelter they had earlier built and began snoring loudly.

     He waited until he was certain both were sound asleep, then quietly he investigated the camp, being careful not to trip on the thin vines holding the shelter erect.

     The aroma of the cooked fish hung in the air, teasing him with those wondrous smells. His nose pinpointed the source immediately. There, next to the dying fire was the black pan they had used to hold the fish in the fire. Inside was a layer of buttery, fishy fat that delighted his tongue as he promptly licked it clean.

     It served only to arouse his hunger and he looked about for more food. Nearby were two strange, blocky objects, bright to his eyes even in the shadows of the night. He recognised one as the container the Hairless Ones had lifted the bottles from. He could even see some of them sitting in mostly melted ice.

     The other container had a lid. Careful not to make a sound, he soon worked out how it opened. Inside was more strange objects. He lifted one out and it fell open. 

     Three eggs crashed to the ground, their cracking shells loud in the cool night air.

     The Sasquatch froze, but there was no pause in the snoring from the shelter. He continued his inquiries into the contents. Something wrapped in thin white paper smelled familiar so he tore it open... thin strips of pig!

     Popping some of them into his mouth he crunched with his teeth, savouring the texture and taste even though it was strangely bloodless and dry. It clogged his mouth with its lack of fluid and his eyes returned to the almost dead coals of the fire.

     The memory of the Hairless Ones sizzling their meat over the flames came to his vision and his nose and he got an idea. Fire was dangerous and to be avoided, he knew that. Even the youngest Sasquatch knew that. But it had made such delicious smells!

     He looked at the dry, tasteless pig meat in his hand then looked back at the glowing coals.

 

     Creeping closer to its red glow he held the pig meat towards it, feeling the warmth on his knuckles as he did so. But it did nothing. The meat would not sizzle as he had heard when the Hairless Ones did it. But the fire had been hotter then. It had certainly been much brighter. Seeing some sticks lying nearby he picked them up and tossed them onto the coals.

 

     At first they did nothing so he leant in closer and blew like he had seen one of the Hairless Ones do when first starting it.

     Instantly the wood caught and he sat back, the flames swiftly rising. Holding the meat out again the fire felt too hot so he picked up the pan he had licked, dropped the pig meat into it and carefully placed it onto the flames, just like he had seen the Hairless Ones do.

     It worked, for soon the meat was sizzling and smoking, the delicious smells rising right into his nostrils. He could not resist and went to pick up one of the crisping pieces but it burnt his fingers, making him drop it... right into the fire!

     Without thinking he went to save it from the flames but the intense heat was too much. There was a pungent smell and he saw some of the long hairs on the back of his hand were smouldering, heating his skin. 

 

     In desperation he blew on his hand but that turned the smoulders into little flames!

 

     Panicking he waved his hand about, trying to put the flames out. But instead they flared into bright life, quickly spreading across the back of his hand and burning his skin!

 

     Frantic now his eyes caught the box with the ice in it. He plunged his hand in and with relief the flames sizzled and died the moment they were dunked below the icy water.

     He glanced at the bright shelter, but the snoring continued unabated.

     The cold water felt so good. There was a clink and his hand rested upon one of the bottles so he pulled it out to look closer.

     In the light from the fire and the moon his night eyes could clearly see some type of liquid in the bottle he held up. He shook it and small bubbles appeared, rising towards the little metal bit at the top.

     The tiny bubbles caught the moonlight and were strangely pleasing so he shook it again, harder.

     More bubbles rose and he could not help but grunt quietly with pleasure.

     He shook it again, really hard this time. There was lots of little bubbles now, all crammed up against that tiny metal bit. He felt it with his fingertips and it moved a little. Now on the edge of his hearing was a faint, high whistling sound. It seemed to come from the tiny metal bit.

     He inspected it closely.

     Curious, the Sasquatch touched the metal bit again and suddenly it was gone and sticky spray was hitting him right in the face!

 

     It fizzed and sputtered loudly in the quiet night air, panicking him even further. Frantically trying to stop the noise he jammed his hand over the end but it kept sputtering out around his palm! Desperate, he tried using his mouth. That worked!

 

     The noise instantly stopped. But it was too late!

 

     He heard movement from the shelter and froze in position.

     One of the Hairless Ones was coming out! 

 

     He was completely exposed, the hairs on one shin dangerously close to the flickering fire, one hand holding the bottle in his mouth. Bracing to bolt he forced himself to stay perfectly still, maybe it would not see him?

     One of the Hairless Ones climbed out and stretched, holding the small of its back with one hand and scratching its groin with the other. Peering about it looked right at him, even pausing on him for a breathless moment, but then its eyes passed on as it shook its head and walked across the camp towards the edge of the firelight.

     The Sasquatch heard and smelt it relieve itself, still shaking its head. Soon it had finished and turned back towards him!

 

     Once again it looked right at the Sasquatch, still frozen in position, the bottle still in his mouth. Thankfully the fizzing sounds had stopped but the bubbles in the liquid seemed to be doing something to his head because his vision suddenly swam and he felt his legs go  numb. He didn’t think he could move now if he wanted to, but strangely, he did not seem to care anymore.

 

     With an effort he held his stillness as the Hairless One walked back across the camp and climbed back into the shelter, shaking its head the whole way. Soon it was snoring again.

     Finally, the Sasquatch felt it was safe to move and removed the bottle from his mouth to study it. 

     

     It took a moment for his eyes to focus but when they did he saw that over half the liquid was gone. His mouth tingled with a thousand sensations and his head swam like he was falling yet he was still erect.

     He emptied the rest of the bottle into his mouth and belched happily. 

 

     This stuff was good.

 

     Forgetting the now smoking bacon in the fire he gathered up the few remaining bottles from the white container and crept into the shadows under the trees.

     Around him the forest swam and flowed like the trees were made of water so he did not go far before lying back against a boulder and inspecting his prizes.

     The lids popped off easily enough without shaking and in no time all the bottles were empty. Now his head swam really bad and he fell sideways into a deep, dream-troubled sleep.

     As the sun rose not even the noisy departure of the Hairless Ones intruded into his dreams.

 

     He never heard one exclaim, “Hey, what happened to the beer?”

 

     Nor the other one reply, “That’s strange... reminds me of a dream I had last night, you wouldn’t believe what it was about!”

Bigfoot Beer

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