Read Online Nobody Loves a Bigfoot Like a Bigfoot Babe by Simon Okill - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Simon Okill
Tags: bigfoot
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her tequila on the rocks. She was casually dressed in figure-hugging jeans and a tight t-shirt which accentuated her glorious figure. The only makeup adorning her face was bright pink lip-gloss. Her short-cropped hair was spiked with gel and somehow it suited her.
Behind the bustling bar stood the six-feet-three inch tall Abe, a well-fed, red-faced, jovial man in his early sixties. He laughed as he served drinks and chatted to his customers. Like Annie's Diner, Abe dished out the freebies, and Wednesdays and Mondays were all-you-could-eat-steak-and-fries night, accompanied with one free beer-a pitcher of Bigfoot ESB.
The sheriff's department also received extra freebies in the shape of all-you-could-eat -steak-and-fries night, six nights a week, excluding Sundays.
Abe watched Lou as she emptied her glass. He had a concerned look on his otherwise cheery face.
"You sure you want another one, Lou? I don't want you shutting me down for serving drunks."
Lou thought about that for a brief moment and frowned-if she happened to be the drunk then how could she shut Abe down?
"Fuck it, Abe . . . fill her up," Lou ordered as she pushed her empty glass across the bar.
Abe deftly caught the glass, dropped in some crushed ice and tipped an ample quantity of twelve year old tequila into it.
"Heard Beau's gone missing . . . yet again," he mused with a chuckle. "Also heard, you had the dogs out looking for him, yet again." He looked cheekily at her as he slid the glass back to Lou.
Lou nodded and sighed wearily as she caught her glass. She took a hefty sip and pondered her situation.
"Yeah, well, the dogs couldn't track him -too much stink. Beau probably backtracked his way from the spot where he'd gone to take a leak." She shook her head with dismay. "I betcha all the money in the world he was lying in the back of the van, hiding under all their camping gear." Lou took a hefty gulp. "Damn it to hell . . . should've searched the van." She blew out her cheeks. "What's done is done, I guess."
They were all in on the charade, thought Lou. By now, Beau was probably hiding out somewhere in town having a big laugh at her expense. Of course, she was just guessing, but her gut was telling her nothing bad had happened to Beau. He'd probably show up tomorrow, if he didn't show up tonight. And he'd probably say Bigfoot took him-like father like son.
Abe shook his head. "He's just messing with you, Lou . . . you know that."
She nodded her head. "Yeah . . . I guess so."
As Lou took another sip of her tequila her face contorted at the dreadful pong of rotten eggs and stale sweat. She gagged on her drink, and turned to see Duane standing next to her.
Duane was dressed in his Bigfoot duds, minus the furry head. He smiled amiably at her. His eyes twinkled mischievously.
Lou smiled and looked at him with a mixture of affection and revulsion. She sniffed his manly odor and got a quick reminder of the crime scenes. She'd often remarked-not just to Duane, but to other Beaverite's that if only he'd get a haircut, shave off that beard and wore some decent clothes and not his faded, tatty jeans and "I'm a Bigfoot" t-shirt, or that stinky Bigfoot outfit of his, he'd pass for not half-bad, quite acceptable, even attractive. Not that she could ever be actually attracted to him. It was just an observation on her part. Besides, Duane was more like a brother to her. He was her best friend.
She knew damned well Duane wasn't concerned in keeping up appearances. Neither was he that bothered in attracting the fairer sex. So why was he so popular with the ladies? One reasonâDuane was loaded.
He had been left a considerable amount of money by a distant relative who had no family except his distant cousin, Duane. The distant relative, Cousin Wilbur, Duane's grandfather's cousin had bought a parcel of land in Florida in the late '50s. The land was your basic swampland full of gators and such, but Wilbur knew a deal when he saw one. He sold the land to a
Behind the bustling bar stood the six-feet-three inch tall Abe, a well-fed, red-faced, jovial man in his early sixties. He laughed as he served drinks and chatted to his customers. Like Annie's Diner, Abe dished out the freebies, and Wednesdays and Mondays were all-you-could-eat-steak-and-fries night, accompanied with one free beer-a pitcher of Bigfoot ESB.
The sheriff's department also received extra freebies in the shape of all-you-could-eat -steak-and-fries night, six nights a week, excluding Sundays.
Abe watched Lou as she emptied her glass. He had a concerned look on his otherwise cheery face.
"You sure you want another one, Lou? I don't want you shutting me down for serving drunks."
Lou thought about that for a brief moment and frowned-if she happened to be the drunk then how could she shut Abe down?
"Fuck it, Abe . . . fill her up," Lou ordered as she pushed her empty glass across the bar.
Abe deftly caught the glass, dropped in some crushed ice and tipped an ample quantity of twelve year old tequila into it.
"Heard Beau's gone missing . . . yet again," he mused with a chuckle. "Also heard, you had the dogs out looking for him, yet again." He looked cheekily at her as he slid the glass back to Lou.
Lou nodded and sighed wearily as she caught her glass. She took a hefty sip and pondered her situation.
"Yeah, well, the dogs couldn't track him -too much stink. Beau probably backtracked his way from the spot where he'd gone to take a leak." She shook her head with dismay. "I betcha all the money in the world he was lying in the back of the van, hiding under all their camping gear." Lou took a hefty gulp. "Damn it to hell . . . should've searched the van." She blew out her cheeks. "What's done is done, I guess."
They were all in on the charade, thought Lou. By now, Beau was probably hiding out somewhere in town having a big laugh at her expense. Of course, she was just guessing, but her gut was telling her nothing bad had happened to Beau. He'd probably show up tomorrow, if he didn't show up tonight. And he'd probably say Bigfoot took him-like father like son.
Abe shook his head. "He's just messing with you, Lou . . . you know that."
She nodded her head. "Yeah . . . I guess so."
As Lou took another sip of her tequila her face contorted at the dreadful pong of rotten eggs and stale sweat. She gagged on her drink, and turned to see Duane standing next to her.
Duane was dressed in his Bigfoot duds, minus the furry head. He smiled amiably at her. His eyes twinkled mischievously.
Lou smiled and looked at him with a mixture of affection and revulsion. She sniffed his manly odor and got a quick reminder of the crime scenes. She'd often remarked-not just to Duane, but to other Beaverite's that if only he'd get a haircut, shave off that beard and wore some decent clothes and not his faded, tatty jeans and "I'm a Bigfoot" t-shirt, or that stinky Bigfoot outfit of his, he'd pass for not half-bad, quite acceptable, even attractive. Not that she could ever be actually attracted to him. It was just an observation on her part. Besides, Duane was more like a brother to her. He was her best friend.
She knew damned well Duane wasn't concerned in keeping up appearances. Neither was he that bothered in attracting the fairer sex. So why was he so popular with the ladies? One reasonâDuane was loaded.
He had been left a considerable amount of money by a distant relative who had no family except his distant cousin, Duane. The distant relative, Cousin Wilbur, Duane's grandfather's cousin had bought a parcel of land in Florida in the late '50s. The land was your basic swampland full of gators and such, but Wilbur knew a deal when he saw one. He sold the land to a
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