Identifying black, furry things
Wisconsin is a beautiful state. When my son went out on the truck this summer he fell in love with it, and vows to construct a mansion with turrets somewhere near Fond Du Lac one day, after he graduates from MIT and becomes a genius robotics millionaire. God love him, and I hope his dreams come true, because who the hell wouldn’t want a kid who can build you an army of robots to fight in the zombie apocalypse? Are you kidding me?
We had stopped for dinner somewhere in the wilds of Wisconsin. I have absolutely no idea where this place was, I get completely whacked on time and space in Minnesota and Wisconsin – I’m pretty sure there’s some alien “lost memory” business going on in both those states. I’ll know for sure if I find a BB in my nose.
It was getting dark and we had seen some fairly large animals milling around in the treeline on the way in. My husband thought it may have been bears, but wasn’t sure if there were bears in Wisconsin. Of course I, being the sensible one, thought they were probably baby Sasquatch. We were discussing this as we walked up to the counter to pay for our meal.
“I’m pretty sure they were baby Sasquatch. They were probably twins.”
“Would you stop with the baby Sasquatch? It looked like bear cubs, I think it was two bears.”
The lady at the counter looked extremely serious. She pointed her finger at me.
“It ain’t funny. I’ve seen ‘em.”
Holy crap. I finally found another human being who had seen a Sasquatch. I was mesmerized. She continued.
“I was at my momma’s house with my kids playin’ in the back yard and one come up over this little hill about fifty yards from us.”
“Oh my gosh! What did it look like?”
She gave me a funny look.
“Well it was big and black. Had a brown muzzle.”
“You saw a black Sasquatch? I thought they were all brown.”
Her look changed from funny to disgusted. It said something to the effect of, “Please leave here before you stupid yourself to death in the parking lot.”
“It was a bear. A big, black bear.”
She stepped back and all but pointed to the door. We made a quiet exit and scuttled back to the truck. Sometimes making friends is hard.