Sasquatch!

We were camping out in the woods a few miles away from the Holy Land.

Not capital-H-Holy-Land, like the one with machine guns and angry Palestinians, but the Holy Land RV Park and Motel just off of Highway 98. It's far enough from civilization for us to see the stars, but close enough to get a shower now and then.

Lucille was always yelling at Debbie and me to make sure we treed the food so the bears wouldn't come. She'd only remember at night, just as the crickets were chirping, the campfire was burning to embers and my sleeping bag seemed like the best place in the world for my tired bones.

It was only a matter of time before we all forgot.

The night that it happened, I snapped awake to a rustling from the bushes. Something was approaching, bending branches and breaking twigs as it slouched toward our camp. I sat up with a jerk, my body dimly outlined by the dying fire, then sat frightened rabbit-still to see a behemoth of a biped rummaging through our packs. It seemed to be most taken with mine, probably smelling my sizable stash of Snickers bars.

I put two and two together: Sasquatch! The gentle giant of the forest, here, in our camp!

As Lucille and Debbie started to stir, I crept forward with my camera flash charging. I advanced slowly and silently until with the last slow and deliberate step my foot crushed Lucille's glasses. At her shout of protest and the crack of plastic, Bigfoot turned around and started to bolt. I clicked off a shot, but he vanished into the forest before I could advance the film again.

The next day, at the bait shop-cum-photo developing lab next to the RV park, we were all disappointed to find that it hadn't been Bigfoot at all. The slouching, primeval form that disrupted our camp had just been one of the rogue Jesus clones that'd escaped from the biotech lab up north. A few years ago, some activists took exception to corporate politics and broke into the Turin Project enclosure with wirecutters, giving the local raccoons and bears competition when it came to stealing food and property damage.

The guy in the gimmie cap behind the photo counter told us we were lucky; the Jesii were known to get cantankerous when they were storing food for the long winter. Lucille sniffed contemptuously, her tape-mended glasses askew.