Lord Long Rod
Diamond Member
- Jan 17, 2023
- 7,706
- 8,122
- 2,138
- Banned
- #1
Looking down at the woman’s battered, headless body at my feet, laying upon a bed of bloody leaves and forest floor, all I could do is shake my head. “Jesus Fucking Christ”, I quietly said to myself. I reached into my shirt pocket and pulled out a nicely wrapped Maduro Nicaraguan puro cigar and cutter. I made a skilled cut, expertly ignited it with my small torch, and enjoyed the opening flora that swirled on my palate. I did not want to let the soothing smoke escape my mouth, but reluctantly I did.
As I stood there contemplating my next act and enjoying my smoke, I became more convinced than ever that there can be no God, for no such concept can coexist with a malignant, evil and foul creature like Sasquatch. And since I know the beast exists, God necessarily cannot exist. But it was a fleeting thought; I dislike the gloom of existential dread.
I buried all the flesh that still contained bone. It was a hastily dug shallow grave. But not many folks venture this far out into the swamp, so it was fine. Next, I ignited an incendiary device I carried and intended for my target, burning the remaining flesh and blood soaked ground, essentially erasing any trace of this woman from the earth. As far as anyone will know, she just disappeared.
I did not really know this woman. I assumed she was just like any other bar skank. Nonetheless, she did not deserve this horrific fate. I felt like she deserved some words to memorialize her existence on earth. She was a person, after all. While I loath eulogizing anyone, I made an exception for her. Standing over her shallow grave, I looked up to the sky, through a small opening in the swamp’s ceiling. I felt a drop of rain on my face. Then I looked down at the earthen grave. I removed the cigar from my mouth and said, “Fuck you, whore. You picked the wrong guy to go home with.” Then I spit on her grave, turned, and walked away.
It was getting late in the day, and a light rain had started falling again. It would soon be dark and I wanted to get out of these woods in one piece tonight. I took my AR-10 off my back and carried it at the ready as I began my 3 mile hike back to the staging area, where I left my truck. The matter was even more dire with the rain coming in. I had barely made it to the staging area earlier in the day because of rising waters in the swamp. Now I had to get out of there or face being stranded in the swamp overnight with a giant, pissed off sasquatch. The malevolent beast would have the upper hand under those circumstances, and I could not allow that to happen.
This whole ordeal started Friday night. As usual, I planned on being in the woods at 4:00 am Saturday morning to pursue “Satan”. This is the name I assigned to this, the most recent Sasquatch to migrate into my swamp and call it home. As you know from past stories, this swamp lies at the southern end of a US military installation. Periodically soldiers run squatch-ops into the swamp to keep the monster population in check.
I have had run-ins with these spec-ops in the past. They even once stole a huge squatch right out from under me. So this time I am being much more careful. Satan is the first true alpha male I have seen in the swamp in some time. They migrate up the river valley in which this cypress swamp is situated. My hunting grounds lie on the northern edge of the swamp, right at the border of the southern end of the military installation.
Satan is a HUGE male that stands no less than 15 feet tall. The shoulders are at least six (6) feet across. It’s weight is most likely pushing 2,000 pounds. It appears old, with graying hair around the head and face. The hair is otherwise reddish brown. It is also losing hair on its head, and has a deformity on its left hand. It has an extremely nasty disposition, as evidenced by its wild and unpredictable conduct, and the number of gored and beheaded deer and hogs I have found in the area, none of which were eaten. It appears to kill just for the sake of killing. It is not the biggest or nastiest Sasquatch I have ever taken on, but it was high up there on that list.
I have been tracking this beast for about two months. It’s elusiveness has baffled me. It is rarely where I expect it to be. After only a couple of weeks I begin to think it is of advanced age and may be suffering cognitive deterioration due to age. Just like an aging person loses mental abilities, so too can a Bigfoot. Of particular concern is that when I started baiting it, I could not make it regularly check for food/bait. One day the bait would be gone, then nothing for a few days. I do not like unpredictability, and the apparent cognitive impairment of Satan made me nervous. Essentially, Satan was the Joe Biden of Sasquatch.
So, on Friday I had been watching the weather closely. There was an approaching tropical weather system moving in from the Gulf of Mexico. If the forecast remained unchanged, it would bring heavy rain and wind to my area by early Saturday morning. This concerned me because Satan has been moving deeper and deeper into the swamp, causing me to have to go deeper and exposing myself to more risk. With heavy rain the water would rise, restricting my access, making travel slower or impossible, and frankly making it more dangerous. If the storm stayed on its path, then I was going to call off the hunt.
By 6:00 pm Friday night the weather forecast clearly indicated we were in the direct path of the storm. It would hit the Florida panhandle as a minimal Cat 2 storm, then move quickly north into Georgia and over my hunting area as a tropical storm with wind gusts in my area in the 50-60 mph range. It was expected to dump flooding rain on my area. I was going to have to wait for another day to go after Satan. It was just too damn dangerous. I may go out one day and have my head ripped off by a Sasquatch, and that is one thing. But I refuse to leave this earth as a result of a stupid decision.
So on Friday night I went out for dinner by myself at one of my regular local spots, Sasquatch Tavern. Before I even got there it started raining. I took my regular spot at the bar and had a couple Dewers and soda before I ordered food. There was a baseball game on the television, but it was a goddamn American League game, so it was not worth watching. Eventually I ordered and dined on a cut of prime rib, medium rare. It was exquisite. I paired it with a glass of Cabernet. Then, as a nightcap I ordered a warm glass of brandy.
Before my brandy arrived, someone plopped down beside me at the bar and said “Hi!”. I looked over to find a 30-ish chick who was not half bad looking. I replied “Hi yourself”. She told me about how she and her friend went out earlier for a “girl’s night out” to help her get over a recent breakup. She was named “Tula”. She left her 2 kids with her mother, then went to a club with her friend, got stinking drunk, then ended up at Sasquatch Tavern for some reason.
Tula was an emotionally wounded creature in a vulnerable position. She was just my type! And while I was not particularly in the mood, and Tula was about a 6.5 on the sexy scale at best, I could not pass up such a sure thing. One of my life mottos is “Feast on the Fallen Lamb”.
We fucked in the front seat of my truck in the parking lot, twice. In what can only be explained as a lapse in judgment, I took the bitch home. She called her mother and asked her to keep the kids overnight. Once we got into my house, she blew me, and we fucked again. By this point it is getting kind of late and I am getting tired. So I make up a couple of drinks, and spike hers with some knock-out pills so I can get some sleep.
Well, when I rejoin her in the living room she asked me about my loadout gear sitting at the front door. She asked “Are you going camping?” Knowing she will not remember a thing about tonight, I said “You dumb bitch, you are dumb as a fucking rock, aren’t you?” She just giggled. I explained to Tula that I am apex Sasquatch hunter, and that I had planned on hunting in the morning but the weather screwed up my plans.
Tula got really excited over the idea of Bigfoot hunting. Apparently, she is a big fan of “Finding Bigfoot”. She asked me, “Oh, so you are like Matt Moneymaker and Bobo?!?” Agitated at the suggestion, I slapped the shit out of her. “WHAP!!!” She just giggled. I told her I was a Bigfoot hunter, not a cocksucking f#ggot. Then she got really aroused, clung to me, and started rubbing my cock through my pants. “Take me Sasquatch hunting, General!! I have always wanted to go Sasquatch hunting!”, she said.
We fucked again. She passed out from the drugs midway through. I blew my load all over her face, then left her lying on my living room floor as I went to bed. The next morning I wake up to this bitch straddling me. Somehow, she got me out, hard, and inside her and started riding me. After we finished I knew I had to get rid of this bitch. Unfortunately, she knows where I live. I asked her, “Don’t you need to go see about your kids?”. She said she didn’t, and that they are fine with her mom. I peeked out the window and saw that there was a break in the rain. So I asked, “You still want to go Sasquatch hunting?” The bitch squealed in delight.
It was already mid afternoon when we got to the staging area deep in the swamp, and it had started raining again…hard. Tula was just as sweet as she could be the whole drive out there. I even stopped and bought her a 6 piece box of chicken McNuggets on the way to the woods when she complained about being hungry. I rarely eat. Instead, I ingest a potent cocktail of ADD meds I get a prescription for from a crooked doctor, and this snuffs my appetite. I do not need it for ADD. I take it by choice to keep me mentally edgy and to stay in shape. The prime rib I had the night before was an unusual treat I allowed myself.
Once we got on foot in the now mucky woods, Tula was a real trooper. I had outfitted her in outdoorsy clothing I had leftover from other dates, including boots. I gave her a pellet gun to carry (I told her it was a “.50 cal AR-15 like the one Bin Laden was killed with”). That bitch had some real stamina in her. I have to credit her for that. She would probably make for a good sturdy wife for some man.
I decided to head right into Satan’s lair and use Tula for bait. Satan has a bedding area deep in the swamp on a little piece of high ground where he can get up under some fallen trees and stay dry. I figured he would be headed for there by tonight when the water rises. I took Tula up there then took out my rope. She asked me what I was going to do with the rope. I told her that I was going to tie her up to a tree and use her for bait. She giggled.
So I tied up the bitch, backed off a couple hundred yards, climbed a tree, and waited. After an hour or so, I can hear the dumb bitch singing some stupid song. I put the crosshairs on her sitting there tied up and singing to herself. I flipped off the safety, then changed my mind and lowered my rifle. Instead I leaned back against the tree trunk. Before I know it, I drift off to sleep. All the whoring and not sleeping had caught up to me.
I am rattled out of a sound sleep by a horrific roar, then a shrieking woman’s scream. That fucking Satan had snuck in here right under my nose while I was sleeping!! I snatched up my rifle and put the crosshairs of my scope on the target. I acquire the target just in time to see big, old Satan holding Tula up over its head, with one hand holding her by the ankles and the other hand holding her by her head. Then in one swift motion, Satan rips Tula in half!! “Motherfucker!!”, I thought. Satan then ripped her head off the torso, it was fucking insane!! He ripped her into pieces in the flash of an eye!!
I sent a head shot downrange from my AR-10. Unfortunately, it was deflected by limbs and missed the target. With a shocked look on its face, Satan looked right at me, and then I emptied my mag on him. It dived for cover. After I went dry I continue to look through my scope to get another glimpse at Satan. But all I saw was the brush violently parting and shaking as the beast quickly retreated, letting out furious roars as he went.
I climbed down from my tree and popped a fresh mag into my rifle. I walked over to the target area. Satan was now long gone. I surveyed the mess Satan left behind. Yuck! Fucking blood and guts everywhere. I knew I was going to have to clean this shit up. “Jesus Fucking Christ”, I said.
So, I buried the remains and then burned everything else. Nobody knows anything except the bitch went home with some stranger. The dudes down at the Sasquatch Tavern will never rat me out. The owner, Old Buford, and I are tight. Besides, half his menu is made with the Sasquatch meat I provide him.
I headed out of those woods double time, knowing the water would be rising. The whole time I was combat ready with my rifle. That Satan is one dangerous and squirrelly sumbitch. But apparently the shooting spooked him good. I got back to the staging area and my truck without incident. This was the first time I fired on Satan. It will no doubt make my job harder now. It will also make it more dangerous.
I managed to get myself and my truck out of there that evening. Had I been a half hour later I would have been stranded due to the flood waters. It was that close. About halfway home my phone rang. I picked up, it was good old Buford. He said the local police had been there looking for a missing person. He asked me if I had seen some bitch around there last night that went by the name “Tula”. “Nope”, I replied. Buford said “Thanks, General” and hung up.
As I stood there contemplating my next act and enjoying my smoke, I became more convinced than ever that there can be no God, for no such concept can coexist with a malignant, evil and foul creature like Sasquatch. And since I know the beast exists, God necessarily cannot exist. But it was a fleeting thought; I dislike the gloom of existential dread.
I buried all the flesh that still contained bone. It was a hastily dug shallow grave. But not many folks venture this far out into the swamp, so it was fine. Next, I ignited an incendiary device I carried and intended for my target, burning the remaining flesh and blood soaked ground, essentially erasing any trace of this woman from the earth. As far as anyone will know, she just disappeared.
I did not really know this woman. I assumed she was just like any other bar skank. Nonetheless, she did not deserve this horrific fate. I felt like she deserved some words to memorialize her existence on earth. She was a person, after all. While I loath eulogizing anyone, I made an exception for her. Standing over her shallow grave, I looked up to the sky, through a small opening in the swamp’s ceiling. I felt a drop of rain on my face. Then I looked down at the earthen grave. I removed the cigar from my mouth and said, “Fuck you, whore. You picked the wrong guy to go home with.” Then I spit on her grave, turned, and walked away.
It was getting late in the day, and a light rain had started falling again. It would soon be dark and I wanted to get out of these woods in one piece tonight. I took my AR-10 off my back and carried it at the ready as I began my 3 mile hike back to the staging area, where I left my truck. The matter was even more dire with the rain coming in. I had barely made it to the staging area earlier in the day because of rising waters in the swamp. Now I had to get out of there or face being stranded in the swamp overnight with a giant, pissed off sasquatch. The malevolent beast would have the upper hand under those circumstances, and I could not allow that to happen.
This whole ordeal started Friday night. As usual, I planned on being in the woods at 4:00 am Saturday morning to pursue “Satan”. This is the name I assigned to this, the most recent Sasquatch to migrate into my swamp and call it home. As you know from past stories, this swamp lies at the southern end of a US military installation. Periodically soldiers run squatch-ops into the swamp to keep the monster population in check.
I have had run-ins with these spec-ops in the past. They even once stole a huge squatch right out from under me. So this time I am being much more careful. Satan is the first true alpha male I have seen in the swamp in some time. They migrate up the river valley in which this cypress swamp is situated. My hunting grounds lie on the northern edge of the swamp, right at the border of the southern end of the military installation.
Satan is a HUGE male that stands no less than 15 feet tall. The shoulders are at least six (6) feet across. It’s weight is most likely pushing 2,000 pounds. It appears old, with graying hair around the head and face. The hair is otherwise reddish brown. It is also losing hair on its head, and has a deformity on its left hand. It has an extremely nasty disposition, as evidenced by its wild and unpredictable conduct, and the number of gored and beheaded deer and hogs I have found in the area, none of which were eaten. It appears to kill just for the sake of killing. It is not the biggest or nastiest Sasquatch I have ever taken on, but it was high up there on that list.
I have been tracking this beast for about two months. It’s elusiveness has baffled me. It is rarely where I expect it to be. After only a couple of weeks I begin to think it is of advanced age and may be suffering cognitive deterioration due to age. Just like an aging person loses mental abilities, so too can a Bigfoot. Of particular concern is that when I started baiting it, I could not make it regularly check for food/bait. One day the bait would be gone, then nothing for a few days. I do not like unpredictability, and the apparent cognitive impairment of Satan made me nervous. Essentially, Satan was the Joe Biden of Sasquatch.
So, on Friday I had been watching the weather closely. There was an approaching tropical weather system moving in from the Gulf of Mexico. If the forecast remained unchanged, it would bring heavy rain and wind to my area by early Saturday morning. This concerned me because Satan has been moving deeper and deeper into the swamp, causing me to have to go deeper and exposing myself to more risk. With heavy rain the water would rise, restricting my access, making travel slower or impossible, and frankly making it more dangerous. If the storm stayed on its path, then I was going to call off the hunt.
By 6:00 pm Friday night the weather forecast clearly indicated we were in the direct path of the storm. It would hit the Florida panhandle as a minimal Cat 2 storm, then move quickly north into Georgia and over my hunting area as a tropical storm with wind gusts in my area in the 50-60 mph range. It was expected to dump flooding rain on my area. I was going to have to wait for another day to go after Satan. It was just too damn dangerous. I may go out one day and have my head ripped off by a Sasquatch, and that is one thing. But I refuse to leave this earth as a result of a stupid decision.
So on Friday night I went out for dinner by myself at one of my regular local spots, Sasquatch Tavern. Before I even got there it started raining. I took my regular spot at the bar and had a couple Dewers and soda before I ordered food. There was a baseball game on the television, but it was a goddamn American League game, so it was not worth watching. Eventually I ordered and dined on a cut of prime rib, medium rare. It was exquisite. I paired it with a glass of Cabernet. Then, as a nightcap I ordered a warm glass of brandy.
Before my brandy arrived, someone plopped down beside me at the bar and said “Hi!”. I looked over to find a 30-ish chick who was not half bad looking. I replied “Hi yourself”. She told me about how she and her friend went out earlier for a “girl’s night out” to help her get over a recent breakup. She was named “Tula”. She left her 2 kids with her mother, then went to a club with her friend, got stinking drunk, then ended up at Sasquatch Tavern for some reason.
Tula was an emotionally wounded creature in a vulnerable position. She was just my type! And while I was not particularly in the mood, and Tula was about a 6.5 on the sexy scale at best, I could not pass up such a sure thing. One of my life mottos is “Feast on the Fallen Lamb”.
We fucked in the front seat of my truck in the parking lot, twice. In what can only be explained as a lapse in judgment, I took the bitch home. She called her mother and asked her to keep the kids overnight. Once we got into my house, she blew me, and we fucked again. By this point it is getting kind of late and I am getting tired. So I make up a couple of drinks, and spike hers with some knock-out pills so I can get some sleep.
Well, when I rejoin her in the living room she asked me about my loadout gear sitting at the front door. She asked “Are you going camping?” Knowing she will not remember a thing about tonight, I said “You dumb bitch, you are dumb as a fucking rock, aren’t you?” She just giggled. I explained to Tula that I am apex Sasquatch hunter, and that I had planned on hunting in the morning but the weather screwed up my plans.
Tula got really excited over the idea of Bigfoot hunting. Apparently, she is a big fan of “Finding Bigfoot”. She asked me, “Oh, so you are like Matt Moneymaker and Bobo?!?” Agitated at the suggestion, I slapped the shit out of her. “WHAP!!!” She just giggled. I told her I was a Bigfoot hunter, not a cocksucking f#ggot. Then she got really aroused, clung to me, and started rubbing my cock through my pants. “Take me Sasquatch hunting, General!! I have always wanted to go Sasquatch hunting!”, she said.
We fucked again. She passed out from the drugs midway through. I blew my load all over her face, then left her lying on my living room floor as I went to bed. The next morning I wake up to this bitch straddling me. Somehow, she got me out, hard, and inside her and started riding me. After we finished I knew I had to get rid of this bitch. Unfortunately, she knows where I live. I asked her, “Don’t you need to go see about your kids?”. She said she didn’t, and that they are fine with her mom. I peeked out the window and saw that there was a break in the rain. So I asked, “You still want to go Sasquatch hunting?” The bitch squealed in delight.
It was already mid afternoon when we got to the staging area deep in the swamp, and it had started raining again…hard. Tula was just as sweet as she could be the whole drive out there. I even stopped and bought her a 6 piece box of chicken McNuggets on the way to the woods when she complained about being hungry. I rarely eat. Instead, I ingest a potent cocktail of ADD meds I get a prescription for from a crooked doctor, and this snuffs my appetite. I do not need it for ADD. I take it by choice to keep me mentally edgy and to stay in shape. The prime rib I had the night before was an unusual treat I allowed myself.
Once we got on foot in the now mucky woods, Tula was a real trooper. I had outfitted her in outdoorsy clothing I had leftover from other dates, including boots. I gave her a pellet gun to carry (I told her it was a “.50 cal AR-15 like the one Bin Laden was killed with”). That bitch had some real stamina in her. I have to credit her for that. She would probably make for a good sturdy wife for some man.
I decided to head right into Satan’s lair and use Tula for bait. Satan has a bedding area deep in the swamp on a little piece of high ground where he can get up under some fallen trees and stay dry. I figured he would be headed for there by tonight when the water rises. I took Tula up there then took out my rope. She asked me what I was going to do with the rope. I told her that I was going to tie her up to a tree and use her for bait. She giggled.
So I tied up the bitch, backed off a couple hundred yards, climbed a tree, and waited. After an hour or so, I can hear the dumb bitch singing some stupid song. I put the crosshairs on her sitting there tied up and singing to herself. I flipped off the safety, then changed my mind and lowered my rifle. Instead I leaned back against the tree trunk. Before I know it, I drift off to sleep. All the whoring and not sleeping had caught up to me.
I am rattled out of a sound sleep by a horrific roar, then a shrieking woman’s scream. That fucking Satan had snuck in here right under my nose while I was sleeping!! I snatched up my rifle and put the crosshairs of my scope on the target. I acquire the target just in time to see big, old Satan holding Tula up over its head, with one hand holding her by the ankles and the other hand holding her by her head. Then in one swift motion, Satan rips Tula in half!! “Motherfucker!!”, I thought. Satan then ripped her head off the torso, it was fucking insane!! He ripped her into pieces in the flash of an eye!!
I sent a head shot downrange from my AR-10. Unfortunately, it was deflected by limbs and missed the target. With a shocked look on its face, Satan looked right at me, and then I emptied my mag on him. It dived for cover. After I went dry I continue to look through my scope to get another glimpse at Satan. But all I saw was the brush violently parting and shaking as the beast quickly retreated, letting out furious roars as he went.
I climbed down from my tree and popped a fresh mag into my rifle. I walked over to the target area. Satan was now long gone. I surveyed the mess Satan left behind. Yuck! Fucking blood and guts everywhere. I knew I was going to have to clean this shit up. “Jesus Fucking Christ”, I said.
So, I buried the remains and then burned everything else. Nobody knows anything except the bitch went home with some stranger. The dudes down at the Sasquatch Tavern will never rat me out. The owner, Old Buford, and I are tight. Besides, half his menu is made with the Sasquatch meat I provide him.
I headed out of those woods double time, knowing the water would be rising. The whole time I was combat ready with my rifle. That Satan is one dangerous and squirrelly sumbitch. But apparently the shooting spooked him good. I got back to the staging area and my truck without incident. This was the first time I fired on Satan. It will no doubt make my job harder now. It will also make it more dangerous.
I managed to get myself and my truck out of there that evening. Had I been a half hour later I would have been stranded due to the flood waters. It was that close. About halfway home my phone rang. I picked up, it was good old Buford. He said the local police had been there looking for a missing person. He asked me if I had seen some bitch around there last night that went by the name “Tula”. “Nope”, I replied. Buford said “Thanks, General” and hung up.
