Lord Long Rod
Diamond Member
- Jan 17, 2023
- 7,706
- 8,122
- 2,138
- Banned
- #1
Back in 1991 I was getting ready to go off to grad school, having just completed a highly successful matriculation at Date Rape U. Deciding to go off on one last romp before leaving, I called up a couple of my friends to go on a camping trip with me. To make things right adventurous I made it a bigfoot hunt. We would be going to a notorious hotspot for the hunt, to wit: the high country of western North Carolina, home of one of the biggest, baddest, meanest sasquatch in the world: The Cherokee Devil!
I told my bruhs to come armed to the teeth and prepared to stay for “as long as it takes” to kill this beast. We all met up at the base of Mount Dick, at the trail head of “Chasing Trail”. It was me and 3 of my best buds: Monkey Shit, Cletus Beavers, and Johnny Murder. We all go back a long way, growing up in the same neighborhood. However, our paths diverged after high school. I, of course, went to college and studied a-broad, or two. Monkey Shit, nicknamed for his distinctive odor, went on to commit several misdemeanors and a couple or more low-grade felonies. Though, he did no real time because his father is the mayor of our beloved home town.
Good old Cletus Beavers left high school and went into preaching … preaching white hate, that is. He was damn successful at it too, making his way to the exalted position of Grand Wizard of the Scumbag County chapter of the KKK. Unfortunately, his righteous reign over the group did not last long. He was caught sucking cock. But it was not the act of sucking cock, per se, that led to his downfall. Truth be known, sucking cock is a tried-and-true tradition in the KKK. Nope, what got old Cletus in a fix is that he was caught sucking the cock of his first lieutenant’s tranny wife. Cletus was excommunicated and now makes bank in the human trafficking business.
Finally, there is Johnny Murder. Old Johnny is an enigma. He is quiet and brooding. Nobody really knows what he has been up to since high school. All we know is that he still rides his ratty old Harley chopper, wears the same old black leather jacket with the Nazi death head symbol of the SS on his back, and carries a 1911 pistol in his pants. Nothing much has changed with Johnny except maybe he has a few more scars than I remembered.
“Well boys, did you come armed like I asked you to?”, I asked, as I slid my new Barrett .50 BMG out of its shuck to the “ooohs” and “awwwws!” of the guys. Cletus spoke up first, “Damn right!! I brought my new Glawk fotty! I just swiped it off a negro down town!!” Upon closer inspection, his “Glawk fotty” was, in fact, a 9mm Hi Point pistol. Monkey shit and Johnny grimaced and turned away from Cletus’s shame. I took a deep breath and then punch Cletus square in his fucking throat. He dropped to the ground immediately. I made a mental note to lend old Clete one of my AR10s I carry in my truck, then decapitate him with my Fiddy after the mission.
I turned to Monkey Shit and said, “Well, Monkey, I hope you have done better than our brother, Cletus. Did YOU come prepared?” Monkey Shit unshucked a pump action 12 gauge loaded with slugs. I said, “That will do, I guess. Only you are limited to close range shots. You will be with me, since I have the ability to reach out and murder someone at a distance.”
Finally, it was Johnny Murder’s turn. I looked at him and asked “O.K., Johnny. Whatcha got?” Johnny raised up his right hand and then “flick!!”. He was holding a switchblade that popped into action at Johnny’s direction. Honestly, I could not fucking believe it. Had it been anyone else I would have put a bullet in them right then and there. But this was not just anyone. This was Johnny Fucking Murder. He stays so hopped up on coke and meth that I believe he could kill a sasquatch with just a knife. Plus, Johnny is one spooky cat, and I was not going to provoke him. “That’s fine, Johnny. Fine”, I said.
So off we went, down the trail and up high on the mountain. I made Cletus carry all of our packs for being such a fucking idiot. The rest of us were cocks out, locked and loaded. About 3 hours into the hike we had to stop and take a break. See, Johnny Murder got into a really serious fight with some invisible man he thought he saw, and who Johnny thought owed him money. The other 3 of us decided to take a load off while we watched the fight. While we were resting Cletus asked me why we were doing this. I said, “What the fuck do you mean, Clete? We are doing this because nobody else has done it! This is one of the last frontiers in the world, don’t you get it?”. Plainly, Cletus did not get it. I sighed and then said, “Cletus, whoever kills and hauls in the first dead bigfoot is going to become a billionaire!” This may Cletus light up.
It is true. Think about it. Nobody knows what these mangy motherfuckers are. If you can keep the government from swiping the corpse, you can sell the shit out of the damned thing!! I am counting on the Chinese buying it. America will pussy foot around and try to make it seem like I owe it something for being a citizen. Putin is too damned broke. Israel is a possibility. I can probably con them into believing it’s a Golem or some shit. But far and away the most money will, I think, come from China.
Then there will be sponsorship money. Gun brand, ammo brand, clothing brands, every brand of everything I use on this hunt will be paying huge sums of money to be associated with the biggest kill in the history of hunting. That’s why I wore my fake Rolex Daytona! Next will be personal appearances and speaking fees!! Then I will write a book and have a TV show. Finally, I will pimp out my cock and jizz to women who want to have a real man for a son!! This is going to be a goddamn GOLD MINE!!!!!
“Then, after I get rid of all my bruhs here, it will be ALL MINE!!!” Unfortunately, I said that last part out loud. I looked at Cletus and Monkey Shit. They both were grimacing at me. “Just kidding, guys. LOL!!!”, I said. They did not look amused. However, we pressed onward with our task.
It was not long before we started coming across signs of the presence of a large, gnarly sasquatch. There were animal bones picked clean of meat, large deposits of scat, and a real skanky smell (like wet dog and poop). “He’s here, boys. The Cherokee Devil!”, I said. Everyone went on high alert. I commenced to laying out my plan to the fellas.
“OK. Monkey shit and I are going to climb high in the trees. We will pick off the sumbitch when it comes into range”, I said. I used a lot of fancy tactical language, like “kill box” and “engage” and “terminate” to foster confidence in the guys. I said that there is going to be a bait pile on the ground to attract the infernal beast. I continued, “Johnny. I want you in the tree directly above the bait pile. After Monkey and I unload on the fucker, you are to jump out of the tree with your blade drawn and finish it off with a deep stab wound to the head.” Johnny simply nodded.
Then old Cletus spoke up. “What am I going to be doing?” I responded, “Cletus, my man. You have the most important job of all.” He seemed to perk up upon hearing this. His eyes grew wide and I could see a grin entering his facial demeanor. I continued, “Cletus, you are going to be the bait pile.”
Cletus was a bit confused. I explained to him that I had several bottles of A-1 steak sauce in the nap sack of mine (that he was carrying). He was to lay out on the ground, moaning in paid, all slathered up in the steak sauce. I figured the smell would entice the monster, and all of the painful moans coming from Cletus would convince the bigfoot that he was a wounded animal. The beast would think he’s an easy meal.
Cletus agreed, and said he would try to sound like a wounded animal. I explained to Cletus that trying was not good enough. It had to be authentic. Therefore, the rest of us were going to beat the unholy shit out of Cletus. He tried to protest, but before he could get all the words out, Johnny was already on top of poor Cletus beating him mercilessly. Monkey and I then joined in to complete the job.
By nightfall we were all in position. Monkey and I were in opposite trees with our weapons ready to fire upon the bigfoot once it enters the kill zone. Johnny was in his tree, directly over the bait pile, blade out and in the ready position. Cletus was all covered in steak sauce and on the ground moaning. “Oh God!! I think I am bleeding internally. I am spitting up blood!”, he moaned. The first hour passed. Then the next, and the next. Nothing happened. It was quiet.
At 2:00 p.m. the boys were getting antsy on me. I told them to shut the fuck up lest their bellyaching scare away the sasquatch. I also told Johnny to get down on the ground and kick the shit out of Cletus, as he was too quiet. Johnny obeyed, and soon old Cletus was back to moaning like an old woman about his bones hurting.
At 4:45 a.m. I knew the sun would be up soon. Frankly, I was sore as hell from laying up there on that tree limb. I started to call it a night when I heard something horrifying. From a hilltop a couple ridges over came the most blood curdling scream I ever heard! It was like hearing fingernails on a chalk board while listening to Hillary Clinton speak, turned up to 11. “Holy fuck!!”, I thought. “This is it!!!”.
Monkey and Johnny Murder both heard the scream too. I could tell from their tensing silhouettes in the pre-dawn gloom that they were readying themselves for attack!! A slight grin erupted on my stone face at the knowledge I had picked the right guys for the job. I felt right proud. We were going to MURDER this sasquatch...and I was going to be fucking richer than a retired senator!!!
Then the unthinkable happened. Old Cletus woke up from his stupor and started screaming and running off through the woods. I don’t know what got into him. Maybe it was the pain that got on top of him. Maybe it was all that time being choked out by Johnny that deprived his brain of oxygen. I don’t know. But that stupid sumbitch went off screaming into the night. And of all directions he could have run, he was heading straight for that hilltop where the Cherokee Devil let loose with that menacing scream!!
I was pissed. I managed to let loose with a few shots at old Cletus from my fiddy. But it was so dark I missed him. We listened to him running through the woods. He never stopped screaming. Down one ridge, then up another. Then down that ridge, and up the next. Soon, he approached the hilltop, which was barely silhouetted against a dimly moonlit sky.
Suddenly, there came a “thud” and a sickening “crunch” sound. The screaming stopped immediately. We all knew that poor old Cletus had bit it. He got to that distant hilltop and the Cherokee Devil squashed him like a bug! Next came the most chilling part of the night. From high up on that dark hilltop we heard a low, yet menacing, laugh. Then it grew louder and louder. That motherfucking monster was taunting us!!!
Soon thereafter the sun started rising. We all climbed down from the trees without saying a word, all of us knowing for certain that Cletus had bought the farm. I decided to wrap up operations. “Fuck it”, I said. “Let’s go get some shut eye at that Motel 6 we passed on the way up here. We can regroup over dinner.” Everyone agreed and we left for the day. We needed rest. We needed a new plan. Plus, we needed a new bait pile. I vowed to return the next night and seek vengeance for Cletus’s untimely demise. “That sumbitch owed me $50.00!!!! Now I am never going to get it back from him!”, I said.
I told my bruhs to come armed to the teeth and prepared to stay for “as long as it takes” to kill this beast. We all met up at the base of Mount Dick, at the trail head of “Chasing Trail”. It was me and 3 of my best buds: Monkey Shit, Cletus Beavers, and Johnny Murder. We all go back a long way, growing up in the same neighborhood. However, our paths diverged after high school. I, of course, went to college and studied a-broad, or two. Monkey Shit, nicknamed for his distinctive odor, went on to commit several misdemeanors and a couple or more low-grade felonies. Though, he did no real time because his father is the mayor of our beloved home town.
Good old Cletus Beavers left high school and went into preaching … preaching white hate, that is. He was damn successful at it too, making his way to the exalted position of Grand Wizard of the Scumbag County chapter of the KKK. Unfortunately, his righteous reign over the group did not last long. He was caught sucking cock. But it was not the act of sucking cock, per se, that led to his downfall. Truth be known, sucking cock is a tried-and-true tradition in the KKK. Nope, what got old Cletus in a fix is that he was caught sucking the cock of his first lieutenant’s tranny wife. Cletus was excommunicated and now makes bank in the human trafficking business.
Finally, there is Johnny Murder. Old Johnny is an enigma. He is quiet and brooding. Nobody really knows what he has been up to since high school. All we know is that he still rides his ratty old Harley chopper, wears the same old black leather jacket with the Nazi death head symbol of the SS on his back, and carries a 1911 pistol in his pants. Nothing much has changed with Johnny except maybe he has a few more scars than I remembered.
“Well boys, did you come armed like I asked you to?”, I asked, as I slid my new Barrett .50 BMG out of its shuck to the “ooohs” and “awwwws!” of the guys. Cletus spoke up first, “Damn right!! I brought my new Glawk fotty! I just swiped it off a negro down town!!” Upon closer inspection, his “Glawk fotty” was, in fact, a 9mm Hi Point pistol. Monkey shit and Johnny grimaced and turned away from Cletus’s shame. I took a deep breath and then punch Cletus square in his fucking throat. He dropped to the ground immediately. I made a mental note to lend old Clete one of my AR10s I carry in my truck, then decapitate him with my Fiddy after the mission.
I turned to Monkey Shit and said, “Well, Monkey, I hope you have done better than our brother, Cletus. Did YOU come prepared?” Monkey Shit unshucked a pump action 12 gauge loaded with slugs. I said, “That will do, I guess. Only you are limited to close range shots. You will be with me, since I have the ability to reach out and murder someone at a distance.”
Finally, it was Johnny Murder’s turn. I looked at him and asked “O.K., Johnny. Whatcha got?” Johnny raised up his right hand and then “flick!!”. He was holding a switchblade that popped into action at Johnny’s direction. Honestly, I could not fucking believe it. Had it been anyone else I would have put a bullet in them right then and there. But this was not just anyone. This was Johnny Fucking Murder. He stays so hopped up on coke and meth that I believe he could kill a sasquatch with just a knife. Plus, Johnny is one spooky cat, and I was not going to provoke him. “That’s fine, Johnny. Fine”, I said.
So off we went, down the trail and up high on the mountain. I made Cletus carry all of our packs for being such a fucking idiot. The rest of us were cocks out, locked and loaded. About 3 hours into the hike we had to stop and take a break. See, Johnny Murder got into a really serious fight with some invisible man he thought he saw, and who Johnny thought owed him money. The other 3 of us decided to take a load off while we watched the fight. While we were resting Cletus asked me why we were doing this. I said, “What the fuck do you mean, Clete? We are doing this because nobody else has done it! This is one of the last frontiers in the world, don’t you get it?”. Plainly, Cletus did not get it. I sighed and then said, “Cletus, whoever kills and hauls in the first dead bigfoot is going to become a billionaire!” This may Cletus light up.
It is true. Think about it. Nobody knows what these mangy motherfuckers are. If you can keep the government from swiping the corpse, you can sell the shit out of the damned thing!! I am counting on the Chinese buying it. America will pussy foot around and try to make it seem like I owe it something for being a citizen. Putin is too damned broke. Israel is a possibility. I can probably con them into believing it’s a Golem or some shit. But far and away the most money will, I think, come from China.
Then there will be sponsorship money. Gun brand, ammo brand, clothing brands, every brand of everything I use on this hunt will be paying huge sums of money to be associated with the biggest kill in the history of hunting. That’s why I wore my fake Rolex Daytona! Next will be personal appearances and speaking fees!! Then I will write a book and have a TV show. Finally, I will pimp out my cock and jizz to women who want to have a real man for a son!! This is going to be a goddamn GOLD MINE!!!!!
“Then, after I get rid of all my bruhs here, it will be ALL MINE!!!” Unfortunately, I said that last part out loud. I looked at Cletus and Monkey Shit. They both were grimacing at me. “Just kidding, guys. LOL!!!”, I said. They did not look amused. However, we pressed onward with our task.
It was not long before we started coming across signs of the presence of a large, gnarly sasquatch. There were animal bones picked clean of meat, large deposits of scat, and a real skanky smell (like wet dog and poop). “He’s here, boys. The Cherokee Devil!”, I said. Everyone went on high alert. I commenced to laying out my plan to the fellas.
“OK. Monkey shit and I are going to climb high in the trees. We will pick off the sumbitch when it comes into range”, I said. I used a lot of fancy tactical language, like “kill box” and “engage” and “terminate” to foster confidence in the guys. I said that there is going to be a bait pile on the ground to attract the infernal beast. I continued, “Johnny. I want you in the tree directly above the bait pile. After Monkey and I unload on the fucker, you are to jump out of the tree with your blade drawn and finish it off with a deep stab wound to the head.” Johnny simply nodded.
Then old Cletus spoke up. “What am I going to be doing?” I responded, “Cletus, my man. You have the most important job of all.” He seemed to perk up upon hearing this. His eyes grew wide and I could see a grin entering his facial demeanor. I continued, “Cletus, you are going to be the bait pile.”
Cletus was a bit confused. I explained to him that I had several bottles of A-1 steak sauce in the nap sack of mine (that he was carrying). He was to lay out on the ground, moaning in paid, all slathered up in the steak sauce. I figured the smell would entice the monster, and all of the painful moans coming from Cletus would convince the bigfoot that he was a wounded animal. The beast would think he’s an easy meal.
Cletus agreed, and said he would try to sound like a wounded animal. I explained to Cletus that trying was not good enough. It had to be authentic. Therefore, the rest of us were going to beat the unholy shit out of Cletus. He tried to protest, but before he could get all the words out, Johnny was already on top of poor Cletus beating him mercilessly. Monkey and I then joined in to complete the job.
By nightfall we were all in position. Monkey and I were in opposite trees with our weapons ready to fire upon the bigfoot once it enters the kill zone. Johnny was in his tree, directly over the bait pile, blade out and in the ready position. Cletus was all covered in steak sauce and on the ground moaning. “Oh God!! I think I am bleeding internally. I am spitting up blood!”, he moaned. The first hour passed. Then the next, and the next. Nothing happened. It was quiet.
At 2:00 p.m. the boys were getting antsy on me. I told them to shut the fuck up lest their bellyaching scare away the sasquatch. I also told Johnny to get down on the ground and kick the shit out of Cletus, as he was too quiet. Johnny obeyed, and soon old Cletus was back to moaning like an old woman about his bones hurting.
At 4:45 a.m. I knew the sun would be up soon. Frankly, I was sore as hell from laying up there on that tree limb. I started to call it a night when I heard something horrifying. From a hilltop a couple ridges over came the most blood curdling scream I ever heard! It was like hearing fingernails on a chalk board while listening to Hillary Clinton speak, turned up to 11. “Holy fuck!!”, I thought. “This is it!!!”.
Monkey and Johnny Murder both heard the scream too. I could tell from their tensing silhouettes in the pre-dawn gloom that they were readying themselves for attack!! A slight grin erupted on my stone face at the knowledge I had picked the right guys for the job. I felt right proud. We were going to MURDER this sasquatch...and I was going to be fucking richer than a retired senator!!!
Then the unthinkable happened. Old Cletus woke up from his stupor and started screaming and running off through the woods. I don’t know what got into him. Maybe it was the pain that got on top of him. Maybe it was all that time being choked out by Johnny that deprived his brain of oxygen. I don’t know. But that stupid sumbitch went off screaming into the night. And of all directions he could have run, he was heading straight for that hilltop where the Cherokee Devil let loose with that menacing scream!!
I was pissed. I managed to let loose with a few shots at old Cletus from my fiddy. But it was so dark I missed him. We listened to him running through the woods. He never stopped screaming. Down one ridge, then up another. Then down that ridge, and up the next. Soon, he approached the hilltop, which was barely silhouetted against a dimly moonlit sky.
Suddenly, there came a “thud” and a sickening “crunch” sound. The screaming stopped immediately. We all knew that poor old Cletus had bit it. He got to that distant hilltop and the Cherokee Devil squashed him like a bug! Next came the most chilling part of the night. From high up on that dark hilltop we heard a low, yet menacing, laugh. Then it grew louder and louder. That motherfucking monster was taunting us!!!
Soon thereafter the sun started rising. We all climbed down from the trees without saying a word, all of us knowing for certain that Cletus had bought the farm. I decided to wrap up operations. “Fuck it”, I said. “Let’s go get some shut eye at that Motel 6 we passed on the way up here. We can regroup over dinner.” Everyone agreed and we left for the day. We needed rest. We needed a new plan. Plus, we needed a new bait pile. I vowed to return the next night and seek vengeance for Cletus’s untimely demise. “That sumbitch owed me $50.00!!!! Now I am never going to get it back from him!”, I said.
