Squatchologist

Over the past several months I've been pondering my options, so to speak. Thinking about what I'm going to do with myself, how I'm going to make a decent living doing something I actually want to do, what sort of a mark I'm going to leave on this society when I'm gone. I hope to make an impact with my novels, of course, but there's no reason fiction has to be my only outlet. I can do other things too. But what...? Then, last night, it hit me right between the eyes. The answer. The thing I can do that will both contribute to society AND make my name a household word. I know now the path my life must take.
   I'm going to find Bigfoot.
   That's right, I'm going to get out there in the wilderness - what little there is left - and find the hairy ape-man of North America. But I'm not going to do it like those other crackpots, I'm going to do it right. I figure I'll need lots of scientific equipment, you know, the kind with lots of lights and dials. I'll need a helicopter too, and an iPad for some reason. And new boots. And some sort of flannel shirt because Squatchologists always wear flannel. Just like Canadians.
   How will that make me a household name? I'm not only going to find Bigfoot, and capture him, and bring him back to display in a series of cross-country railroad stops, I'm also going to make him the darling of the salons. And I don't mean hair salons or nail salons - where they really are talking about you* - I mean the intellectual salons. They still have those, don't they? Places where adults can have a calm, rational discussion about the issues of the day? Like Fox News? HA!
   Hoo-boy.... anyway... That's right, I'm going to make Sasquatch into the Mark Twain of the 21st Century. I'm gonna need corporate sponsorship, of course. I figure Nair would be a good first sponsor, seeing as how I'm gonna need to de-fur Sasquatch to make him presentable. And then maybe a Big and Tall Man store, because Sasquatch is gonna need a tuxedo. And a top hat.
   Yeah... sounds like a plan. All I gotta do first is get out there and find him. How hard could that be?


* my friend Andrea went to one nail salon where the ladies speak Chinese. Andrea speaks both Mandarin and Cantonese but she was born here so she speaks English without an accent. And, evidently, she looks a little more Korean than Chinese, so the ladies assumed she couldn't understand what they were saying. They weren't being nice. At. All.