I GOT SASQUATCH FEVER

To the tune of "Cat Scratch Fever" by Ted Nugent


This was the image captured in October of 1967 that fired the young imaginations of all my buddies in Detriot Michigan. It appeared in both Time Magazine and Sports Illustrated.
The photo is proof positive of what we knew all along- Bigfoot was no joke! Like Werewolves, the Chupacabra and Vampires, this was not a Myth, but an actual Bone Crushing, Gas Passing Creature. He had relatives all over the world, the Himalayan Yeti, the Abominable Snowman, King Kong and even in Arkansas was the Boggy Creek Boogie Man.

Furthur bolstering our young imaginations were the reports coming out of Monroe County, just south of Detroit, of a Bigfoot like Beast ravaging the roadways, and scaring the Homones right out of all the young people who frequented the local lovers lane.

Across the street from me lived little Peter Spencer, the young brother of my classmate Bill. Peter and Bill spent the night with me one night, and we studied everything we could find about Sasquatch, Bigfoot and our more local "Monroe Monster" as the newspapers were now calling our neighbor in Monroe County.

The next afternoon, I put the finishing touches to the two humongous footprints I had made right outside Petes bedroom window, and spread a little hair I had taken from Mrs McMullins dog run that housed two Huskies on his windowsill.
Then I went and knocked on the door.

'Hey Pete, lets go look around and see if we can find the Monroe Monster....he could be close by."
"O-O-K, d-do I- n-n-need to bringa- anytthing?"
Pete had a bit of a stutter, but no one teased him about it because he was one of the funniest guys I ever met, and any of us would have creamed anyone who did.

"Yeah, Pete, grab that squirt gun of yours that looks like a German Luger"
"O-O-Ok Steve, and I'll g-g-get my f-fake b-barf t-too."
"What are you gonna do with that Pete?'
"I-I-Ill hold m-my Stomach and g-g-roan and throw it at h-him!"
"Good thinkin' Pete!"

So all around the neighborhood we trod, Pete with his luger and fake barf and me with a Magnifying Glass, a cap gun, and a Bolo Bouncer looking for signs of the Monroe Monster.

"W-what are w-we lookin' for S-Steve?"
"Stuff like plants pulled up and the roots eaten, Pete, or a place where he might have left his footprints."
"O-o-o-r m-m-maybe w-here h-he might have s-sat d-down and left his b-b-butt p-prints, S-steve?"
'Buttprints? Pete, you crack me up! I'm havin' a cow!""


And Pete and I just fell out laughin'. We held our sides and rolled on the ground and kicked our feet and wiped the tears from our eyes. How can you not like a kid who is going to find Bigfoot by tracking his Butt prints? We woulda’ creamed anyone to tease Pete.

I don't know how long we scoured the neighborhood, but at some point the only places left to look for signs were my house and his. My house was clean, so we crossed the street with an air of disappointment hangin' thickly between us.
"You go that way Pete, and I'll go this way, by your Garage."
When Pete went round the corner heading towards his bedroom window, I turned around to spy on Pete. I couldn't wait to see his face when he found those tracks and that fur I had planted earlier

***************

Pete couldn't sleep for a whole week.
Those tracks and that hair had scared him bad. He had gone running into his house, screaming bloody murder. And while I had been in trouble, big trouble at first, the misdemeanor was alleviated by the fact that Pete had suddenly lost his stutter!

As my Mother had said, without much kindness...
"Your little stunt seems to have cured Pete"
I think about Pete a lot at times ... mostly when I have done something wrong that turns out right. I wonder if his stutter ever came back, and how much credit you can take for something that you have done that was wrong, but comes out OK.
I think that happens to us a lot more than we are aware of.