Max was
disgusting. It wasn’t even an active form of disgusting, like being a slob with
purpose or a chauvinist, just a passive, unintentional form of lazy disgusting
that only the severely negligent and the totally uncaring can achieve. Max’s
pudgy eternally Cheeto coated fingers, receding hairline (which was tipped by a
rat-tail) and omnipresent miscellaneous stains only served to heighten and
clarify his repulsiveness. His room in his grandmother’s basement also
reflected his vile personal hygiene. The room contained one bed, topped with a
sheet that would shatter if you hit it too hard, a desk littered with random
culinary memorabilia, on which lay a desktop computer from the early 90’s which
could not possibly be a shittier machine. The floor of the room was carpeted
with the kind of nasty shag carpeting that you only find in offices that people
kill themselves in (or from). The carpet did not manage to protect the floor
from the barrage of disgusting as it was covered with used tissues, packets,
wrappers, bottlecaps, papers and toenail clippings. The walls were painted
institutional green and would be visible were it not for the massive
spiderchart that dominated the room. It was obviously meticulously crafted with
photographs, pins, threads of colored yarn and the customary blood, sweat and
tears involved with such a project. It was the only neat and clean thing in the
room and was centered on a single word “Sasquatch”.
Max’s
unholy obsession with the Sasquatch started when he was in 3rd grade
when he believed that he saw one in the middle of the playground after school (it
was in fact two stoners in a cheap gorilla costume). Being called an idiot
seemed to only increase his obsession and drove him into more investigation.
Over the years the obsession grew until the only things Max did daily were: eat
junk food, drink soda, attempt to convince others of the existence of the
Sasquatch and expand the massive spiderchart on the wall. Max therefore had no
friends, source of income, fresh air or sex life of any kind. He lived in his
dark, dank room in his grandmother’s basemen. He didn’t even notice when his
grandma died.
His
grandmother owned the house and had willed it to him. Literally all he had to
do was show up, sign some papers, show his ID and he’d be home free; an entire
house richer. Obviously, Max did nothing. He didn’t even read the letter sent
to him, he absentmindedly used it to wipe his armpits. He was therefore
extremely surprised when a wrecking ball destroyed his bathroom and a good
chunk of the ceiling.
Contrary to his lack of hygiene and
complete obsessiveness, Max was not stupid. He sought out a court settlement
for damages and walked away with a considerable amount of money and promptly
decided that he was going to use this medium sized fortune to seek out the
Sasquatch. Max had decided to camp out and capture definitive photographic and
video evidence of the existence of the Sasquatch so that everyone would finally
believe him. He rented out a motel room, recreated his spider chart and cross
referenced the number of sightings in each area with the town’s generated
income and tourism (especially from Bigfoot related activities) and factored in
the UCC (upstanding citizen count) to come to a conclusion of the most likely Sasquatch
populated areas. Max’s calculations brought him to a town in the deep
Northwest.
Following the trail led him to a small town,
dwarfed by the giant redwoods native to the area. Actually, calling it a town
doesn’t do other towns justice. It was 12 derelict houses, a police station, a
sort of school (he assumed) and a general store. The entire half-town was made
exclusively of the “Olde Tyme”-ish log cabins found very commonly in cheap horror
movies (which are cheap because they’re filmed in shitty towns like this). Max
made his way to the general store expecting to find a sort of mini-Wal-Mart
which would sell everything he needed, what he did in fact find were lots of
jars of pickles and opossum jerky. “Okay” thought Max “I can do this. I can
make my own tent and sleeping bag. These chumps would’ve sold me something
defective anyway. I’ll make do.” And that’s how Max ended up in the forest,
freezing and shelterless, with no provisions.
Max was deep in the woods, panting, grunting
and cursing when he started to have withdrawal symptoms. The caffeinated
products were the first to have their revenge. The ridiculous amounts of Cola,
Coffee and Mountain Dew (otherwise known as unfiltered, semi-nuclear sewage
sludge) he used to regularly consume returned to haunt him. Now, Max was deep
in the woods, panting while slumped against a tree with a migraine that could
topple cities. The absence of the e-numbers and preservatives within the massive
mounds of Cheetos he happily absorbed for years struck him next. Now, Max was
in a fetal position in the freezing cold, damp mud, deep in the forest with one
hand clutching his pounding head and the other clasped around his belly (which
occasionally rumbled with gastronomic unhappiness). Max lived in this state for
approximately three weeks, surviving only on tree-bark, leaved, feces (which he
thought were “wild raisins”) and the occasional overly curious rodent or
insect. Once he recovered from this painful crawling state, Max briefly returned
to the half-town, stole some blankets and bought some opossum jerky.
Max quickly returned to the wilderness and
believed himself to be of “clear body and mind”. In fact, Max had only
undergone the first phase of bodily detoxification, Pain. He now had to deal
with severe cravings and, subsequently, hallucinations. He began to get
suspicious when he noticed that the squirrels had been replaced by walking bags
of chips, he knew something was off when it rained cola and figured out what it
was when the giant redwoods that constantly surrounded him became giant mugs of
coffee that softly sang to him in a soothing tone. It was in this unfortunate
state that Max discovered an inhuman footprint.
It was so perfect and picturesque. Every doubt
Max harbored since his first discovery suddenly vanished. The insults that had
been thrown at him and latched on, the “idiot” the “moron” the “total fucking
lunatic” all disappeared. Max felt more empowered and useful than he ever had
in his life. He had found a print. He had finally done something meaningful and
important. His life finally had real meaning to it. All of his lifelong dreams
(which stemmed from finding the Sasquatch) would finally come to fruition: he’d
be a super cryptid expert, renowned throughout the world for his genius and
epic pecs, he’d accomplish so much in his job as a firefighting astronaut but
his only regret would be that he couldn’t see his smart, funny, supermodel wife
more often (it would be good to note that Max’s daydreams started in 3rd
grade and were never edited, only expanded upon). He took a couple of photos of
the print and set up camp right next to it. Giddy from his discovery. What he
neglected to take into consideration was that he was hallucinating at the time,
and when the print apparently vanished Max broke his camera in rage.
After emerging from the Pain and Craving
phases of the detoxification, Max now had to go through the final phase: The
Purge. By the start of The Purge, Max’s physical and mental torment had reached
a new high, his initial jarring migraine and stomachache were removed,
distributed equally throughout the body and then returned with a vengeance. He
was extremely sore everywhere and being in the freezing cold woodlands did not
aid his situation. The cold stung him from the outside, the sores generated
mediocre warmth from their dull pain but there was a fire brewing within his
anus. The Purge is when the body suddenly and violently “purges” itself of all
foreign or unnatural substances. Eventually Max quit wearing pants as the
energy expended in taking them off and replacing them in a hurry could be
better utilized. In times of confusion and need Max experimented wiping with a
plant he would later discover is known as poison oak, tree bark and, on one
occasion, a very confused and insulted squirrel. Now; in his Purge induced
state Max began to think, for the first time, if it was really worth it. He’d
always had nagging doubts which he’d silenced with ease but now he was truly
considering the possibility that A) he should turn back B) everyone was right
in calling him an idiot and C) that the Sasquatch may not actually exist. At
this depressing point, Max decided to return to the half-town and leave for
home (which he would have to make) and as he trudged on, his dreams shattered,
he noticed an odd decline in the mud. Max ran towards it to find a print
totally unlike the one before. The other one was exactly what one would expect
when discussing Sasquatch tracks, these were different. They weren’t picture
perfect; they were smudged, faded and odd looking but not odd looking in a fake
way, odd looking in the extremely (almost undeniably), uniquely flawed,
ultimately realistic way. Max stood at it and began to feel vigor reenter his
flabby body. He smelled it, tasted it and videotaped it with his video-recorder.
He then camped next to it and checked on it every day until The Purge ended. It
was genuine. With renewed morale, Max continued his search.
Max
tracked the tracks to a circular clearing, surrounded on all sides by giant
redwoods. Upon extremely careful examination Max deduced that the trampled
sediment revealed a sleeping area and the scratched trees revealed a taste for
tree-bark. While acute, his observations were completely incorrect. Max decided
to camp close enough to see, but not close enough to be seen. The next 6 hours
were the most excited, hormone driven and sweaty hours he had ever experienced.
He felt like a teenager again. Eventually, Max heard a noise: a sort of long,
low, almost melancholy wail. Max followed the sound to the clearing and saw,
with his own eyes, a Sasquatch: The living, breathing proof of his life’s work.
The Sasquatch was close to 2.5 meters tall, covered in coarse chestnut fur
(except for the eyes, nose, mouth and chest which showed peach colored leathery
skin), strange long arms and slightly bandy short legs. It seemed to have no
real neck joints as when it turned it moved its entire upper body. It walked in
the most bizarre way; it seemed to bounce as it moved and looked like a
performer doing a silly walk. Close examination of the hands of the animal
would reveal significantly long nails which insinuated a tree inhabiting, or
partially tree climbing, Sasquatch. Max hurriedly pulled out his video
recorder, alerting the Sasquatch to his presence. The Sasquatch looked him in
the eye, as though it was telling him not to ruin its home with scientists and
thrill-seekers. It was in fact not saying anything remotely close to that. What
happened next could be attributed to the fact the Max had never studied
primates and if he had, he would know that primates are: 1) extremely strong (2)
highly territorial (3) see eye contact as a threat and (4) omnivores.
Around 3
months later some hikers would find Max’s remains. Autopsy reports would assume
death by wolf as the bones were obviously gnawed on. The autopsy reports would
be very, very wrong.
