Bob and Phil

Bob and Phil

A bromance

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I was pissed. No, I was ROYALLY pissed. My divorce finally got finished yesterday, and of course, being the man, I got fucked. She really, really tried to get everything, but luckily, there were no kids, so child support was out, and her job was comparable to mine. Still got beat down for maintenance for two years, but it was very minimal. Happily for me, I had a really good lawyer who happened to hate my ex with a passion, because she was the one who led his ex-wife down the rosy path of infidelity, and being a lawyer, he got the shaft worse than I did.

I had evidence of at least three different times she had sex outside the marriage, each time with a different partner. No fault, so it didn't matter. Her lawyer happened to be the Judge's second cousin's wife, and they were close. My lawyer brought that up, petitioning that one or the other should remove themselves from the case, which go a resounding no from the Judge, and I think he held it against me.

As a result, he gave her way more than she could have gotten. I'd bought the house, paid every payment, her contributing nothing, but I still had to give her 35% of the value. She wanted it, so I insisted it be sold, and this was right before inflation and high interest rates, so it netted about fifteen per cent more than it was worth. She tried to buy it using her 35% as a down payment, but the little credit history she had was bad, so she couldn't get a loan.

Then she tried to get her new boyfriend to buy it, but I told the realtor I'd sign nothing his name was near. This led to them both attacking me. I slapped the shit out of him, and she jumped on my back, nails trying to rake my face. She must have sailed a good ten feet when I threw her off, landing on her head, so nothing important was damaged.

By the time the cops got there, they said I'd jumped them, so I was arrested. As luck would have it, there was an ATM right across the street, and it was all captured on security camera. This happened on a Friday, so I didn't get out until Tuesday. I got fired when the charges came out, and when I finally found the footage, it was clear who got attacked. When they reviewed it, all charges were dropped, but they were afraid of the Judge network, so they weren't charged until my lawyer pushed it. It took most of the house money she'd gotten to keep them out of jail.

My lawyer made unlawful termination sounds to my old company, and in the end, I was paid $29,000, and they paid my lawyer, and I got a glowing letter of commendation.

I was unemployed, mad at the world, and wanted to get as far away from humanity as I could. So, I did what I'd always wanted to do. I went on the run, disappearing without telling anybody. Honestly, there wasn't anybody to tell. I wasn't from the area, and all the friends I'd had I met through my wife. While they didn't shun me, it got pretty uncomfortable, so I let them drift off.

The perfect solution was the Gaines National Forest, two hours away, completely remote, with primitive campsites you could either pack into, or use an ATV for more accessible facilities. I was going to stay for three weeks, the maximum time allowable by the Park Service. Since I was staying that long and had no desire to hump that much gear up steep trails, I chose the most accessible by vehicle, packed my stuff, stopped to buy a little UTV truck, loaded it on a new trailer, and off I went.

The campsite I chose was the most remote they had, and even the little four-wheel drive truck had a little trouble a couple of times. I had the truck bed and backseats loaded to the gills, and still had to make another trip. The Ranger at the check in station grinned.

"Runnin' away from home?"

"Nope, just my life. I've had a rough year, and I just want to relax and recharge, as far away from people as I can."

He looked off into the distance, before grinning. "There's been a time or two I've wished I could do that. I'm betting you don't have kids; they have a way of changing priorities."

"Luckily my life went to shit before we had any."

"Well, you're all checked in. Remember, you're alone, and pretty far out, so be careful. It might be a while before someone comes looking for you if you don't come back on time. Watch your fires, and the bears aren't really active in that area, but you need to use the bearproof containers at the site."

I wondered how serious he was that night as I settled in.

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The first couple of days were spent decompressing. I hiked a few of the trails, fished a few streams, and slept a lot. I'd brought a couple of cases of beer, more than I thought I needed, as well as a couple of fifths of booze.

The third day I was hiking through a patch of woods when something stuck out at me. I looked a little closer and grinned. Magic mushrooms. I recognized them from hanging out with an older cousin, walking pastures and woods around my grandparents' home. They were pretty abundant at the time, but as usage grew, they got rarer. This place was loaded, and I couldn't help myself, gathering a couple dozen and stashing them in my pack. I briefly wondered what would happen if a Ranger caught me, but I hadn't seen one in the five days since I'd arrived.

After I washed them, I cut them into strips and laid them on the picnic table to dry. I'd reserved four, which I finely chopped and steeped in a pint of water, drinking three beers before I could work up the nerve to drink the concoction. It tasted as awful as I remembered, but it didn't take long before it started kicking in. I was really starting to have a warm, rosy feeling, when I heard something in the woods.

Even as fucked up as I was, my first thought was bears, and when something appeared at the edge of the firelight, I realized it was the biggest thing I'd ever seen. The Rangers would be lucky to find a body part big enough to identify. All this was going through my head when it came into the light.

It wasn't a bear. It was about seven feet tall, extremely hairy, and a genuine Bigfoot. Yeah, Bigfoot. He stared. I stared. Then he walked over to the cooler and snagged a few beers, sitting on a log on the other side of the fire.

I stared at him for a while, then blinked my eyes, to see if he would disappear. Nope. "You ain't real."

He grinned, the large teeth flashing in the firelight. He spoke, a low rumbling bass, the words plain. "Well good then. But even if I was, who would believe you?"

We stared at each other for a while. For an imaginary creature, he could drink the hell out of beer, getting another three out of the cooler. He slammed one down, crumbled the can into a little ball.

"Bob."

"Phil," I answered back.

"Why you out here like this?"

I grunted. "Don't want to talk about it."

He gave his semblance of a grin again. "Woman troubles, huh? I know the feeling."

"You ever been married?"

"My kind don't have marriage in your sense of the word, but we do mate, establish monogamous relationships, but sometimes one partner or another gets a better offer. Our form of divorce can be a bit rough. I was in a relationship once."

I could hear it in his tone. He'd been cheated on at some time in the past. I held my beer out. "Sucks, huh?"

He clinked his can with mine, and I got an idea of how large his hands were. "Yeah, it does."

He looked sad for a minute, then the grin was back. "I can't believe how easy you're taking this."

"It's because I'm stoned on my ass and you're not real. I'll wake up in the morning with a hell of a hangover, with some pretty wild, vaguely remembered images in my brain. Want something stronger than that beer?"

"Hell yeah!"

I got the bottle of blended out and we took turns swigging from it. I finally passed out, barely remembering Bob picking me up and laying me on my sleeping bag.

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I woke up well after daylight, feeling like shit. I stumbled out of the tent and the first thing I saw was Bob, sprawled out against the log, my bush hat over his face. I screamed.

It woke him up, flailing around. One big hand caught me, sending me sprawling. He came to his senses, and walked over, reaching out to help me up. I started to slide away, but decided the hell with it, and took his hand. Bob helped dust me off, chiding me a little. "Damn Phil, you scared the shit out of me."

"Fuck that, I'm standing next to a real-life Bigfoot! No one will believe me."

"You're right, they won't, so I'd appreciate it if you kept it to yourself. Now talk a little quieter, I have a hangover from hell."

I noticed he still had my hat on his head, and for some reason that struck me as funny. I started laughing, and soon enough he joined in. When I could catch my breath, I explained I wasn't laughing at him, but the situation. This wasn't what I had in mind when I came up here.

We finally slumped back down, me in a camp chair, him on the log. "Want some coffee?"

"You're damn right I want coffee. A lot of coffee, maybe it will make my head feel better."

I didn't think to ask him how he knew about coffee, but I grinned. "It ought to feel like falling off. Judging by the crumbled-up cans, you had between fifteen and eighteen beers, most of a fifth of liquor, and I see you found the rum after I went out."

"Sorry," he said, not looking a damn bit sorry. "I don't get to drink much."

I had an old-fashioned percolator coffeepot that had belonged to my grandfather, that held 12 cups. I drank four and Bob had the rest. I cooked up a dozen eggs and made pancakes, and he poured maple syrup over all of it, eating as fast as I could dish it up.

He glanced up, maple syrup dripping down his hairy face. "You seem awful calm about this."

I shrugged. "I figure I'm still fucked up. I'll blink my eyes directly and you'll disappear, and I'll be hugged up to a tree trunk or something."

He laughed, a pleasant, rumbling sound. "Those must be some damn good 'shrooms. You should try the ones in North Canyon. Those things will really kick your ass."

"Do you do them?"

He shrugged. "Naw, they have no effect on my people. We could have them in an omelet and not blink."

"We? How many of you are there?"

He seemed reticent. "More than you would suspect."

"Really? Why doesn't the world know?"

"Oh, they know. Where do you think all the wild stories come from? Back in the day, they thought we were monsters and did their best to kill us. It took a long time before we even came close to humans again, but you guys are like a virus, and you spread like one. We decided it was best to avoid humans as much as possible, so we sought out the wildest, most remote places we could. Last night was a fluke. I decided since you were high, I'd just pop in, and be gone before you woke up. That didn't go to plan."

"So what now? You just gonna fade back into the bush, making me wonder?"

"That was the plan. Thanks for the beer."

He rumbled off, disappearing so fast I thought maybe it was really a hallucination, until I realized he still had my bush hat.

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Deciding I needed to replenish my supplies, I drove the little truck back to the parking lot, getting into my regular vehicle and headed for the nearest town. I resupplied at the grocery store, including three more cases of beer and two half gallons of alcohol, one rum, the other blended. I stopped at a little roadside stand and bought a small bag of apples, some grapes, and a couple of pears. I loved fruit over processed sugars, so I intended to eat everything over the next two weeks. I'd bought a large bunch of bananas as well.

The Ranger was in the parking lot as I transferred my supplies, talking to another camper, so he ambled over. "Enjoying the solitude?"

I grinned, flashing back to last night. "Not as much as I thought I would, but it's very relaxing."

"Well, the season's winding down now. Six or eight weeks at best. We close when the cold weather hits, for safety reasons. Enjoy it while you can."

I thanked him, fired up, and left. Back at the camp, I took my favorite rod and walked to the river, looking for a good spot. Bob just seemed to materialize beside me, no sound at all. I jumped a little. "Jesus Bob, are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

"Sorry, dude. I'm pretty good at sneaking up on people. This place is fished out, come with me and I'll show you a better spot."

I followed him, scrambling through brush and over rocks, until we came to a stream about a third of the size of the river. I was skeptical, but Bob told me to toss out into a pool that eddied around a rock. My line hadn't hit the water until one of the nicest trout I'd ever see swallowed my hook. I whooped and yelled as he ran with the line, Bob grinning the whole time.

I caught my limit in less than half an hour, disappointed it was so quick, when Bob told me to keep going. "I've got my limit."

"Game laws don't apply to my kind. They won't go to waste, so keep fishing."

An hour later, I had fifteen fish, the smallest eighteen inches in length. Bob picked one of the smaller ones and ate it, raw. He grinned at my expression. "We don't cook much; it draws too much attention."

He led me out a different way, showing me the mushrooms he'd talked about last night. As messed up as I'd gotten the night before I was a little reluctant to pick any, but Bob talked me into harvesting a dozen really large specimens. He walked back to camp with me, both of us asking questions.

"How come you can speak English?"

The question seemed to offend him. "I watched, I listened, and my parents taught me. I can speak French and Spanish as well. Don't be comparing us to your Neanderthal ancestors, although they were pretty canny people."

"So you're intelligent, educated, and yet you still shun societal interaction. Why is that?"

I didn't notice he'd stopped. When I turned around, I had the feeling he was really sad. "Your people don't have a good record for interacting with someone that does not look like you. Look at the American Indians, the blacks of Africa, indigenous people of the South American rain forests, and the subjugation of the Indian continent. They'd tear us apart like we were circus freaks. Scientists would want to study us, even do autopsies, draw blood, study our habits, like they would every other form of what they consider wildlife when they encounter one. Thanks, but no thanks."

There wasn't much I could say to refute that. By then we were at the campsite and it was getting late, so we prepped the fish for grilling. He reached into a little pouch I hadn't noticed before, pulling out a powder and sprinkling it over the fish. Bob caught my look and made a facial expression I had learned to recognize as a smile. "It's sumac, and it tastes a lot like lemon pepper. If you want to try to use it, always make sure to harvest the red, and never the gray. Gray kills."

While he was working on the fish, I got out the big cast iron pan, tossed lard into it, and mixed cornbread pancakes, pouring more lard into my big pot, and fried five pounds of potatoes. We ate like pigs, throwing the bones into the fire to discourage bear visits. Well, I did, Bob just chomped them down, bones and all. I think he was almost full when he stopped.

Then he noticed the apples and bananas. "Shit! I love bananas!" He grabbed the whole bunch, happily munching through them all, when he noticed me grinning. "One fuckin' monkey joke and I'm putting you on the top of the highest tree I can find, and let you figure out on your own how to get down."

That broke it and I started laughing. He eventually started laughing along, smacking me on the shoulder, which sent me rolling. Bob helped me up. "Sorry, dude, I'm just keep forgetting how puny humans are."

I rubbed my shoulder, wondering how big the bruise was gonna be. When suddenly his head popped up and he sniffed the air. "Shit!"

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"Be cool," he warned, as they materialized out of the darkness. I realized suddenly that Bob was not a true representative of his people. There were four of them, and they were all half a foot to a foot taller, and one was massive, he had to be at least eight feet tall, and he didn't look happy.

There was a lot of fast talking and arm waving, in a language that seemed to use short, clipped off words that made no sense. Bob sighed and turned to me. "Phil, this is my brother, Marc."

Marc was the next smallest to Bob. "And this is my mother, Ara." I'd been too freaked to notice before, but she was definitely feminine, with longer, curlier hair, curves, and the largest breasts I'd ever seen. Her nipples poked through her fur, enormous compared to human women. She wasn't smiling.

"This is my father, Pops." He was the really massive one, and it almost hurt my neck to look up at him. He wasn't smiling either.

"And this is my 'little' sister, Angel."

Angel was a slimmer, younger version of her mother. As I got to know her, I realized even though she was older, she was in the teen years of her people.

I tried to recover as best I could. "Hi, it's nice to meet you. Would you care for something to drink?"

Ara spoke, surprising me with her higher, feminine voice. "I'd love a coffee, it it's not too much trouble."

I put the pot on. The males elected for beer, and I was suddenly glad I'd replenished my stock. Angel wanted soda, but I didn't have any, so she took a carton of orange juice instead and seemed happy.

Pops drank a couple of beers before speaking. I realized as he talked that I'd never felt so small before, and I was six one. "We mean you no harm, but you've presented us with a problem. Are you discreet? Can we trust you not to blab? If word gets out, we'll have to move out of the area, and winter is coming."

Marc grinned, baring his teeth. "We can take steps to keep you from talking. Campers have disappeared in this area before."

Ara chided him. "Marc! Behave! Sorry, Phil, Marc's had a couple of bad experiences with your kind before."

"He's just a big ol' butthole!" Apparently, Angel didn't idolize her big brother.

"I can understand his attitude. Humans can be the worst assholes on the planet. I don't trust them, and I'm one of them. The stories I could tell."

That relaxed them some, and then Angel saw the apples. "Ooh! Apples!"

It seemed Bigfoot (Bigfeet?) loved fresh fruit. I gave her the whole bag, glad I went for the peck, and she took it with her as they left. She thumped Bob pretty hard when she found out I'd had bananas, and he'd eaten them all. Marc and Pops didn't warm up to me, but Ara gave me a big hug that left me dangling at least a foot off the ground, my face between her massive boobs. I was lucky to be able to breath. Angel was suddenly shy, but she gave me a hug as well. Thankfully she left my feet on the ground.

After a short discussion with Bob in their language, they left, Angel chattering happily until they were out of earshot. Other than her voice, it was like they just disappeared. Bob seemed a little embarrassed at first, but after a couple of beers he cheered up. An hour later, after drinking about a twelve pack, he left. It seemed awful quiet as I went to sleep.

They popped in and out for the next two weeks, Bob mostly, but Angel visited a lot. I made another supply run, buying bananas in quantity, and two bushels of apples. Bob told me his mother liked sweet wines, so I picked up four of the really big jugs, and four cases of beer. It seemed that without a party permit, that was the limit. I also picked up a dozen two-liter sodas in different flavors for Angel. Oddly, Marc had a big sweet tooth, so I got six big bags of assorted candies. It took me three trips with the little UTV, and I was glad the Ranger wasn't around. It was quite a party that night. They ate fifty hotdogs with all the trimmings, then hit the booze.