tell everybody

Sasquatch
We was toolin' up the Kings Highway 63 in southern Ontario, Canada just south of Thunder Bay, listening to Canadian native rockers April Wine. Just at the opening line of "Say Hello" this frickin' sasquatch bolted out in front of my Nissan Titan scaring the be-Jesus out of me and my buddy, Herve, recently of Nogales, Sonora, Mexico. Herve quickly dinged the shaggy biped with an unopened Budweiser. I hauled it to a quick stop at a 45 degree slide and just barely missed squashing the sasquatch.
We roped the winch up over the cab and pulled the stinky bugger into the bed, figuring that as the first to capture a live bigfoot we would be rich, famous or both. Our immediate problem was our advanced state of intoxication. Who could we tell? Mounties? Hell no - they're cops aren't they? Who else? Jeez, we didn't know who held authority in this backwoods third world paradise. Bob and Doug McKenzie? No. We decided they were TV dudes and about the only thing good to come out of Canada aside from a beer or two (and not that bearpiss Moosehead crap). We decided to drive deeper into the boreal forest, start a fire, drink more beer and wait for our prize to awaken.
Awaken he did. Alleviating a serious case of "morning wood", he began to irrigate the truck bed and because the bedliner did not include drains, his effusive discharge began to accumulate and moisten his thick shaggy-dog style hair increasing the stink to an almost unbearable stench on any stink-meter. Herve fled gagging into the woods. I tried to figure out how to untie this stink generator with minimum damage to me and/or my truck or getting any sasquatch pee on me. Suddenly, my training came back to me.
I had studied collective behavior and crypto-zoology at the University of South Dakota during the sasquatch invasion of the Cheyenne River Sioux Indian Reservation in the early 80's. I quickly grabbed a flashlight, a camera, some trail mix and a pair of size 17 Air Jordan's I always keep behind the driver's side seat in my truck just for this eventuality.
I placed the Air Jordans on the tailgate just out of his reach, trained the flashlight on them and began flicking it on and off. This interested the freshly woken sasquatch. I used the flash from the camera to simulate an arena type setting and cranked Toto's Eye Of The Tiger over the 8 speaker Rockford Fosgate that comes standard with the the Nissan Titan 5.6 Liter.
The sasquatch calmly unfastened his binders, eyed the Jordans carefully and noted Herve's return. Herve, sensing a critical moment, popped the top on a Bud and handed it to the sasquatch. Twelve beers later, Herve and I and the sasquatch were gathered around a fire with the sasquatch sporting his new Jordans. About 2:00 AM, our stinky buddy indicated he had an engagement and motioned an over and out. I snapped the above photo as he bugged out.
We know it sounds unlikely, and the mushrooms we scored in Duluth may have affected our judgment and perception, but we're pretty sure this actually happened. Herve would back up the whole story if he hadn't been deported back to Sonora shortly after we reported our story to the Arizona Daily. I hear he's on college student kidney patrol for the local coyotes.
Oh yeah, I almost forgot, the sasquatch absconded on the Sam's Club trail mix and my Run Westy Run compilation CD. What a friggin' bi-ach.