"Why did you start reading while on the road?" scolded his dog.
"I wasn't reading! I just took a glance and then it was like I was there." Riley sighed.
"These are the shark's stories. You experience them the way they are meant to be experienced. Some can be just read, others you will live through. That's why you shouldn't read and drive."
Derrick glared at his dog. "You know why donkeys don't go to college?" he asked Riley. Riley just stared back. "Because no one likes a smart ass," he finished, chuckling.
"Hey, I actually understand that joke!" Riley exclaimed. "Still not funny, though." Derrick sulked the next few miles.
He announced to Riley that he needed a drink (and he was eager to see what the next postcard said) and pulled over at a roadside bar.
Once he was seated, had his drink in front of him, and was ready, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the poscard he'd brought in. It showed a picture of a very frighteningly large mosquito, with the caption: Alaska's State Bird. He flipped it over, and took a sip of
THE BIG CHILL, REVISED
Perhaps no one was more surprised than Bigfoot when he slipped and fell to his death during a rappelling excursion with his Hibagon buddies. Then again, he was famous for his physical feats, even amongst his brethren of the forests and mountains, so there was no reason to think he’d lose his life in a climbing accident.
Of course, to hear Puck tell it, he’d been there and warned Bigfoot to double check his ropes. Then again, if anyone believed Puck’s stories, he’d been present at each and every event of note in the history of the planet. He’d seen the Sphinx being built, the fall of Rome, the sinking of the Titanic, and had front seat tickets to the first World Series. Hell, he even claimed he was at Woodstock.
There was no denying that Puck was present at Bigfoot’s funeral, however. There he was, dabbing his dark almond eyes and telling anyone who cared to listen how it was he who put the idea into Patterson’s head to make the hoax video. “That totally threw people off Bigfoot’s path for decades, really gave him some space to breathe, you know?” he explained between sobs.
The Ijiraq turned his head towards the human man who sat next to him, a handkerchief to his nose. For one not used to the various odors of the forest and mountain beings gathered at Bigfoot’s funeral, the stench could be quite mind-numbing. In fact, the human woman next to the man seemed on the verge of fainting. The Ijiraq smiled in a friendly manner at the man, but the man didn’t notice since he was staring at the enormous caribou antlers protruding from the Ijiraq’s head.
“You’re here for the Sasquatch service?” the Ijiraq inquired gently, thinking perhaps the human was lost. The man nodded, and lowered his handkerchief to speak. As he inhaled to utter his reply, his eyes immediately began to water.
“Yeah. I met Bigfoot back in ’81 on a camping trip. I took some pictures, and after he threatened to kill me if I didn’t turn over the film, next thing you know, we were having a few beers, having good conversation, you know?” The man gestured towards the woman. “The missus didn’t believe me at first when I told her I was making the same camping trip once every year so I could hang with Bigfoot, but then she came along once, you know?”
The Ijiraq didn’t know, but he did know Bigfoot had been quite the people person. “I am sure he would have appreciated your presence here . . . ah . . .” he trailed off, pausing politely.
“Phil. Phil Cribbens. This here is Jeanie.” He stuck his hand out, but then his eyes followed the Ijiraq’s gaze downwards at its own hoof. The Ijiraq politely shapeshifted its hoof into a hand to grasp Phil’s, and they nodded at each other in mutual respect.
Everybody in the room suddenly looked to the back, as the doors swept open in a sudden arctic gust to reveal a lovely woman in a white kimono. Yuki-onna, female spirit of the snow and a major babe. Many of the male creatures had to quickly wipe the drool from their mouths, but poor Qiqirn couldn’t control himself. He let out a howl of lust that caused an incredibly awkward silence (except of course for the howl) in the room, until one of the three Hrimthurs reached out with a long arm and swatted Qiqirn on the nose. Yuki-onna laughed softly, and immediately the tension was broken. She floated down the aisle, greeting certain beings and smiling at others, until she glided into a seat besides Paul Bunyan, who looked down at her, and gave her a one-fingered hug that completely enveloped her shoulders.
“You look fabulous, girlfriend!” Paul exclaimed. “You must tell me all about what you use on your skin after the service! The Minnesota air is just awful to my complexion!” Then the giant man’s beard split to reveal a pearly smile. “You must meet Babe!” He reached into his satchel to pull out a tiny blue-skinned ox that wore a rhinestone collar.
Behind Paul, Amarok wrinkled his snout in disgust at the giant’s blathering, and began wondering if he could somehow steal the ox away for a leisurely meal to share with his wolf-brothers. Once Bigfoot had been properly transitioned into the afterlife, of course.
One of the Ents standing immobile at the back of room was startled to see another Ent reach quickly for the coffee urn, and pour itself a large cup, then add a substantial amount of sugar to the cup.
“Hoom,” the Ent addressed the other, who was now draining the cup, syrupy coffee dribbling down the sides of its mouth, “if I may say so, you seem rather, hoom, hasty enough, without caffeine.” The other Ent ignored him, drawing another cupful of coffee. “You know, I don’t, hoom, er, remember you arriving with my party? What Middle-Earth forest do you hail from?”
The other drained the second cup, and belched, causing the Ent great consternation. Then it shrunk and twisted into the form of a pale man. “I’m not one of you,” the man snapped.
“My apologies,” the Ent said. “It seems I was rather hasty, Leshy. You do make a rather fine tree, you realize.”
The Yeti, Bigfoot’s longtime paramour, leaned her head upon Saumen Kar’s shoulder, tears running down her sleek fur-lined face. While it was true that she had often cheated on Bigfoot with Saumen Kar, and cheated on Saumen Kar with the Wendigo, she had loved Bigfoot in her own way.
“Oh, Sasquatch, “ she murmured. Saumen Kar stroked her fur and uttered soothing noises around the unlit cigar clenched in his teeth, acting every inch the supportive friend. But his thoughts were already hotly occupying the night ahead when he could comfort her in earnest. He embraced her, and as the Yeti squeezed him back, she winked at the Wendigo, who sat a couple rows back. The Wendigo grinned at her, revealing its long sharp teeth. Then the Wendigo returned its attention to the very delicious smelling human couple, licking its lips. Phil’s wife glanced in its direction and immediately inched nearer to her husband, her face paler than ever.
Suppressed giggles emanated from the group of elves as they took turns sneaking under the seat where the biggest Jotun sat and slowly, carefully tied his bootlaces together. After all, the bigger they were, the more hilariously they fell. They were nearly caught in the act by Caillech Bheur, who kept shushing them and threatening them with her cane.
She wondered where their master was. After all, here they were in Fairbanks, which wasn’t too far from the North Pole. It shouldn’t have been too much trouble for the old man to make an appearance. Unfortunately, ever since he became an international symbol, thanks to that soft-drink company, for one of the most marketed holidays in the history of mankind, it’d gone to his head and he’d turned into rather a dick. An expensive one, too, if anyone wanted him to make an appearance. Caillech harrumphed, and thanked her Irish luck once again that she hadn’t accepted Nickie’s marriage proposal those many years ago. His poor wife must have her hands full.
Abruptly, the room grew still. Everybody turned to regard the solemn figure standing at the podium next to the colossal coffin. The figure was bedecked in berries and leaves, with long hair that resembled moss growing from its crown and chin. Standing at 6 feet tall, the Waldgeist measured a lot shorter than many of the creatures in the room, but he gave the impression of being tall. The Waldgeist regarded each and every being with its deep green eyes. It was the oldest guardian of all things wild and of the earth, which vested it with the authority to lead this ceremony of farewell.
“Brethren,” the Waldgeist said in a low even voice that still managed to reverberate through the room, “kin-” here it turned its gaze to the Barbegazi- the tiny furred hominids who sported feet of the same dimensions as these of their more famous, much larger cousin. “-and friends,” it added, nodding slightly at Phil and his wife, “we are gathered here to mourn the loss of one of our brothers of the earth, the wild and free being known as Sasquatch, or Bigfoot.” A murmur ran through the room, punctuated by the higher-pitched trio of escalating sobs as Paul, Puck and the Yeti tried to out-do each other’s display of bereavement.
“Although he may have been more foolhardy, or more wiser, who is to say which,” the Waldgeist continued, “by interacting with the human world as much as he did, there is no denying that he never forgot where he came from, or who he belonged with. He always came home, to the forest.” The Waldgeist bowed his head in reverence. The only other sound was the creaking of the Ents also bowing their heads.
The back door crashed open, causing everyone to jump in their seats and Qiqirn to pee on the floor. Akhlut stood there swaying on his tail flippers. He waved his wolf’s paw at no one in particular.
“So sorry!” he shouted. “I got turned around up at the Strait, and it took me just forever to track this place down!” He turned his eyes blearily towards Amarok. “Hey there, brother!” he called out cheerily. Amarok pretended to not have heard Akhlut, studiously licking his tail.
“Cor, bloody eejit’s completely fluthered,” muttered Caillech as she glared at the drunken spirit standing in the doorway. The Waldgeist regarded Akhlut patiently but also let out a deep sigh.
“Akhlut, good of you to join us. Please, take a seat.” Akhlut staggered down the aisle, lurching into an angrily muttering gnome, whom he used to steady himself. Finally he collapsed next to the Yeti, who he tried to kiss, completely oblivious to the fact that she was already engaged in some serious tongue hockey with Saumen Kar.
“Yes. Well. We have gathered here to show our respect for our departed brother, whose life was lost when-” a loud wail cut off the Waldgeist, as Akhlut staggered to his feet and launched himself at the coffin, pounding on the lid. He continued wailing, and Qiqirn began howling in harmony. The Wendigo got up, to pry Akhlut off the coffin, and a general ripple of discomfort ran through the room. As the Wendigo dragged the orca-wolf hybrid away from the coffin, Akhlut quieted down. So did Qiqirn, having received another rap on his nose, but this time from the tip of Caillech’s cane.
That’s when they all heard it; a strange, repetitive sound from inside the coffin. Almost like a grating rattle. The Waldgeist leaned over to listen more closely, therefore nearly getting its noggin cracked as the lid flew open to reveal a pale, Bigfoot groaning harshly.
“It’s a zombie hominid! A zombie hominid- a- a z-zominid!” exclaimed Phil, leaping to his feet. The giant hairy Sasquatch doubled over, as if in great pain. But then he sat straight up, and the more observant amongst the mourners realized that Bigfoot was . . . laughing!
Bigfoot pointed at various members of the congregation, clutching his ribs with unbridled mirth. “You gotta . . . see . . . your faces!” he gasped in between whoops of laughter.
“No!” Saumen Kar roared, launching himself at the startled Bigfoot. “You’re supposed to be dead- you can’t have the Yeti!”
“What?” Bigfoot roared in return, standing up in the coffin, which caused it to topple off the stands. Being the natural acrobat he was, this presented Bigfoot no difficulty in leaping straight at Saumen Kar to grapple with him. The two hairy beasts staggered around in an angry dance of dominance as pandemonium seized the entire room. The ice giants stood up, forgetting to stoop and they all hit their heads on the overhead beams, causing the building to shake. The Jotun with the sabotaged laces toppled forward, crushing several of Santa’s little helpless under its massive icy musculature. Akhlut grabbed Yuki-onna, groping her. She formed a club of ice and whacked him over the head over it. As he collapsed, she floated majestically over his prone body and was out the doors, thoroughly disgusted with the entire spectacle.
Amarok took advantage of the chaos to grab the ox and pop it into his mouth, but Paul saw the blue oxtail disappearing down the wolf-god’s maw. Screaming, Paul grabbed his ax and swung it at Amarok, who dodged it easily. The edge of the blade bit into one of the Ents slowly turning to depart.
The Ents have a saying: “It is better to be patient than to be hasty, for in haste, one makes waste.” This turned out to have another meaning, for the wounded Ent let out a mighty scream that burst the eardrums of the more aurally sensitive beings. Then in its haste, the Ent made waste matter of Paul Bunyan, ripping his arms out of their sockets and beating Paul’s exfoliated face in with them.
The Ijiraq shifted into a massive polar bear and Phil and his wife quickly climbed onto its back, escaping through one of the stained glass windows into the snowy streets of the town.
Caillech found herself in Akhlut’s drunken embrace, and when she opened her mouth to squawk indignantly, found it full of orca tongue. She grabbed Akhlut’s head with both hands and began kissing him back in earnest. She’d been alone a long time.
The Wendigo dove into the wrestling match between Bigfoot and Saumen Kar, seeing its opportunity to have the Yeti all to itself. The Yeti stared at the three giants clawing, biting, and kicking (also in Bigfoot’s case, head-butting) and realized that she was quite horny. Her eyes wandered over to meet those of the Waldgeist. The Waldgeist bowed slightly to her and held out a hand. They quickly disappeared into the men’s restroom.
Puck stood up, brushed imaginary lint off his suit, and said, “Screw this,” before he strolled sedately out the door.
Perhaps no one was more surprised than Bigfoot when he died from an infection contracted during the brawl. The Wendigo had plenty of rotten meat stuck between its teeth, after all. Then again, he was famous for his stupid pranks and violent temper, even amongst his brethren of the forests and mountains, so there no reason to think he’d lose his life in a hospital bed.
This time, only a few gremlins bothered to show for the funeral.
Of course, to hear Puck tell it, he’d known about the prank all along and warned Bigfoot it was a bad idea to stage his own death just to see who’d come to his own funeral. Puck just had to have the last word on everything.
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