Well, I was supposed to get Stargate Sg-1 but what they ended up sending me was Stargate Atlantis which, for the uninitiated, is like asking for prime rib at a fancy restaurant and what they end up serving you is a plate of camel shit. Camel shit folks, that’s what me and my family has been forced to watch on the DVD machine ever since little Gary boy chewed through my hard earned cable line that I spliced from my neighbor’s connection. He’ s a little busy with rebuilding his house an’ all from yesterday so I haven’t had time to mention the whole cable thing yet, mom is the word though, mom is the word.
These were the best actors they could find with a time machine
So I had to do something with this whole Bigfoot thing, the Sci-Fi channel said they wanted some footage of people being interviewed, preferably the ones who had claimed to had seen it. This was a problem because I lost the list of eyewitnesses when Beth washed my jeans and it went all over the washing machine. I keep telling her not to wash those, I’m going for the Hell’s Angels look, dip ‘em in motor oil and never wash them again. I can’t appear like a hard-ass smelling like lavender. My second problem was that Youngblood had borrowed the video camera the Sci-Fi Channel had lent to me to add a little extra spice to his bedroom frolics if you know what I mean. He probably just wants to compete with that cat who plays piano on YouTube but I could care less, just as long as he disinfects the thing before handing it back. The last time I lent him my stack of Jugs magazines they came back so stuck together I could’ve used the whole pile as a cinder block.
So after calling Leland and Youngblood on the phone I found out that they weren’t interested in going with me on this particular hunt. Leland had tai kwan do practice and then he was doing his nightly stripper thing down at Frank’s and Beans. Frank’s wife Beans is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met, good for them for following their dream of opening an all-night male strip club with a sex swing in the centre instead of one of those mechanical bulls. Ahh memories. Yeah and Youngblood is just being a dick and doesn’t want to come so I ran over there with a pair of oven mitts on and grabbed the video camera back.
Frank & Beans enjoying some quiet time
My first interviewer…err interviewee, interviewi, the first person I talked to was Darrell McBurnaby. He runs a local pawn shop on the edge of town. I suspected he was on the meth when I went into his shop because there were hoses running from the ceiling to the back room and he was really wired and freaked out but I was here as a para-floral investigator not the Dog, so I just turned my head. Obviously I can’t show you the video but here’s the transcript from the audio from him:
“Yeah so I was just chillin’ here ya know on a Saturday night and all was quiet on the western front ya dig me baby? Nothin' nothin' nothin' I mean No-Thing was happening Jack and that’s a fact when all of a sudden I hear this noise comin’ from the back like soimethin’ rippin apart my Trecel or something so I go out there and here’s this mother fucker like you wouldn’t believe, huge, huge like, if you were you but not you just about three feet taller and your hair was all over your body man like I was just like what the fuck is this thing now I can’t even remember what I did next but I know that I ran like hell because I was shit scaredless this thing had fangs like the pillars of Hercules falling down on you and me and your whole family my friend and that’s the truth and you can bake that to the tank.”
Soon after our interview, Darrell was offered his own sitcom by UPN
I wasn’t quite sure how the Sci-Fi Channel would view Darrell’s account but I had a deadline, at least I think I did. They were pretty vague with their letter, all I remember from it was “Where’s our fucking show, hick?” which I thought was kind of rude coming from geeks like that.
My next eyewitness was young Jeremy Brooks, a child that was playing on the swings in the park and saw Bigfoot after he left Darrell’s shop. I went to meet Jeremy at the sandbox to see what light he could shed on this conundrum:
“I sawt da monster I deeeeid. Did you know that, that when the wind blows it makes the trees go harump bump bump? My farts smell like pumpkins. When I grow up, do you know what I want to be? I want to be what my daddy does, sits on the sofa and drinks his special happy drinks. You smell! You smell like poopoo! Hahahahhahaa pooooopooooo!”
Focus, Jeremy
Well as you can see that was a total bust. I think it’s time we start performing lobotomy’s on children who act like that. Either that or start teaching people that a vagina isn’t a bat cave and they shouldn’t be shooting their little cracker jack gremlins out every 9 months just for shits and giggles. And hold off on your emails, I’m all too aware that I have enough kids to form an orchestra, but most of my kids I didn’t want plus I shopped around, I didn’t have ‘em with the same broad.
Looks like my time is up, this will have to wait for another dog day. The Bigfoot mystery deepens, and so does the level of shit I’m going to be in with the Sci-Fi Channel.
No comments:
Post a Comment