Critter finished his story, remembering that he and his friend spent four beautiful summer days with Cornelius before their hometown hamlet sent out a search party looking for the two young Yeti. They found the youngsters napping in the white sand under the yellow sun, bellies full of the strange, new fruits of the sea and their heads full of adventure. Over time, the food gets digested but the smell of the Pacific and the idea of unmapped trails and unseen vistas never fade, floating on the crest of Critter's brow. His friend, who Critter respectfully referred to as Jim Doe (i kept telling him it was John Doe and Critter flatly said "not where i am from") went back to the comfort and safety of the heart of their forest where he would learn to harvest delicious berries and tree fruits with his family and continue studying trees, the stars, the rivers and rocks that form the seasons of a the Sasquatch. But for Critter, upon his return, could not be still...and being still is a large part of being a Bigfoot. Often when a young yeti gets out of line the reprimand is "Be a tree." Critter could hardly pretend to be a roaring let alone an oak. He had to leave and so he did.
Which sort of bring us to now except how Critter got from Oregon to my doorstep is another story. Naturally I asked him and he just looked at me and turned up the Hawkwind 8 track and looked out the window, at a sun playing little games with with an ocean at recess. I put my head back and let Critter drive.