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Bigfoot Lives

So yeah, Bigfoot--it's a hard question.
Κείμενο Mark & Darren

Todd Forrest says: "This is a rash person—safety is no accident." Photo by Una Knox

With over 250 separate Sasquatch sightings in the past year, even the most cynical scientists are starting to ask themselves, "Was I right when I said that he doesn't exist?" They're also saying, "What about that old record The Bigfoot Recordings, A True High Sierra Wilderness Story, Narrated by Jonathan Frakes of TV's Star Trek, The Next Generation? Was that the real deal?" (I'm trying to write like a real journalist but I am fucking baked out of my mind right now so it's going to sound weird.) So yeah, Bigfoot––it's a hard question. Yes, it really is, man. Especially to me and my roommate Mark when we sit around listening to weird old records getting "fuckin' fried and freeze-dried" (said in a Southern accent, please). That's how and when we came up with this amazing idea: Let's see how long we can hold hands without laughing. I highly recommend this game if you're not gay because it is funny as shit. After playing that until it got way too weird we came up with another amazing idea: Why not find the biggest douchebag in the whole world and ask him to tell us the truth about Bigfoot? Once we decided this was a great thing to devote our lives to, we went on eBay and did random searches for things like "douchebag" and "dickhead" and even "fuckface." After seeing some pretty amusing stuff, we eventually discovered a young man named Kevin who was selling his services as a prank caller. He had amazing quotes in his item description, including things like, "Want to get back at your boss?" and "Getting bullied at school?" and then "Well, let me handle it!" It made us laugh so fucking hard we got a head rush and then went on this paranoid tangent where we thought he might be a genius and was just fucking with us. "Shit," we thought, "now we sort of don't even know if Kevin exists. That's two mysteries." Fuck it. It only cost seven dollars so we gave him our number, told him it was the number of a fictional coworker named Darren (that's me), and, well…here, see for yourself what we told him:

Dear Kevin,

I just sent you seven dollars via Paypal. You really seem to know your shit. I want you to call a former coworker of mine. His name is Darren. He literally made my life a living hell! He would steal my lunch out of the break-room refrigerator at a rate of at least two times a week. Each time I called him out on it, he would respond with something like "Sucks for you" or "Please come back later, can't you see that I'm eating your lunch?" or just simply "Bring it on."

Sometimes we'd have office-wide drawings for different prizes, you know, just a simple put-your-name-in-the-box sort of thing. I really wanted this "Two Free Entrees at Houlihan's" prize, because I had just started dating this girl, and that seemed like a cool date. I don't know how, but he knew I really wanted it. I walked by his desk and there was my entry slip. I said, "Why'd you take that out of the box?" He replied, "Houlihan's shouldn't be serving faggots." Then he started laughing maniacally.

Here's the topper: On his last day with the company there was a big "going away" party for him. Everyone left early, probably to go meet at The Fox and Hound (a bar and grill around the corner). I was pretty busy, so I just got some cake and went back to my office to finish some reports. When I went down to my car (a brand-new Hyundai Santa Fe), someone had written "Buttfuck" along the driver's side with black shoe polish. I was already late in picking up my 13-year-old son from school, so I didn't have time to wash it off. It was one of the most embarrassing days of my life. I want you to call and be totally abusive. Give him hell! I can't wait to hear how this goes.


Kevin replied very quickly with the following message.


HOLY DOG SHIT this guy is evil! I'll call him Sunday night 3am NY time. I'll call until he tells me to stop. If the call is traced it'll be to a payphone in Northern, CA. I'll give you a transcript of the call. What does this asshole look like? Does he have any weaknesses? (Fat, Moles, etc) What would really get his goat? I already added positive feedback to your eBay account. All I need is Who you want me to call, What you want me to say, Why the prank is being done, and When you want me to do it. Hope to hear from you soon.


The connection was made. All we had to do now was break out the bong and wait for this stupid teenager to dazzle us with his wit. Kevin was supposed to call us (the evil coworker, that is) that very night. We waited by the phone until almost five in the morning waiting. We talked about how we're going to tear him a new ass and call him "Kevin" and say shit like, "Is this that fucking eBay guy?" and stuff. We even had a few zingers written out. But he never called. We emailed him the next day asking if it went down and he said he couldn't get through—LIAR! We were kind of pissed off and worried about Bigfoot. Would we have to give up the Kevin game? Would we have to open the windows and get a job? Would we have to watch Friends again in silence? Fuck no! We emailed back and said it was a blessing he didn't get through because we had more stuff to tell him. It went like this…

Dear Kevin,

I'm glad you didn't get through to him. I thought of some more stuff to tell you. He is, or was, in pretty good physical shape. He really liked those Sobe "No Fear" Energy Drinks, and kept several in the break-room fridge. If he found someone stealing them, he promised to "waste their ass." He was the only employee that could get away with cursing and yelling loudly. Sometimes he'd yell "THAT'S RIGHT, BOYYYEEEEEEE!!!" out of nowhere. (You know, that was the thing that the Beastie Boys used to say).

Maybe you could mention his divorce. I know he has a son living with his ex-wife. He had one of those giant novelty dream catchers hanging in his cubicle. It was, like, three feet in diameter. He would always stand back and stare at it repeating the word "Badass."

Oh shit, I almost forgot, he's missing half of his little finger (I forget which hand). He was out one night throwing darts at this place called South Beach. Some guy threw a dart through Darren's finger. Darren was so drunk that he didn't get it examined until the next day, and it got infected REAL bad. They had to take it off at the joint. Hopefully that's enough. I really hope you get this asshole on the phone, and a detailed transcription would be great!


I felt kind of weird about Mark calling me an asshole like that, but then I remembered that I don't exist. That night we waited and waited and waited. By 4 a.m. we had passed out next to the phone. We had taken Percoden and it made us too sleepy to hang. The next morning there were two gifts waiting for us from Santa Kevin. One was the now-infamous prank call left on our answering machine, and the other gift was an email transcribing exactly what message he had left. So yeah, it was kind of the same present twice, but––and again this is probably the weed talking––somehow hearing that message and then reading a transcription of it was so fucking funny our neighbors complained about the laughing. They thought we were retarded (literally).

Dear Mark,

The Call has been made. I just got the answering machine. Then I called back and left 2 messages, first one to see if he was home. Second one I let him have it. I recorded them so I can tell you word for word what was said (legally I cannot give you the recording).

1st call: "Hey Darren you DUMB FUCK, You too stupid to know how to pick up the phone? Stop jerking off with your 4 1/2 fingered hand and pick up the fucking phone!"

2nd call " You should have your balls ripped off with a fork, so you don't contaminate the rest of the world you asshole! If you're that fucking stupid how can you be smart enough to fuck? No wonder your bitchy wife took your son away, you'd probably kill him you're so fucking stupid! Shit she must have been pretty fucking ugly and stupid to screw your dumb ass to begin with. Why don't you shove that "Bad Ass" dreamcatcher of yours up your ass, you fucking asshole"

Hope you like the calls, they're not the most creative ones I've done but I'm sure it'll piss him off, especially since he won't know my voice. If there's someone else you'd like me to call just let me know.


It was around this time we decided this guy was, in fact, the biggest genius in the world. Of course "my" kid had to be taken away. "Darren" would have killed him because he's so stupid. Anyone who could uncover secrets like that could explain Bigfoot to us no problem. We burned him a CD of the record and wrote nothing but "Sierra Wilderness" on it. You should hear this thing, by the way. It's a field recording from the mid-70s of "scientists" tracking a Sasquatch in the Sierra Mountains. It's a low-rent audio Blair-Witch-kinda-affair with extended periods of forest sounds punctuated by nervous guys saying "Did you hear that?" or "I think that's the female" or my personal fave, "Come on out, Biggie" (we must have replayed that part so many times the needle has kind of worn it out and we can't hear it as well as we used to). One of the more head-scratching elements is the fucking smooth jazz soundtrack provided by Charles McPherson that sounds like it's from a BET Profile of Gregory Hines or Ben Vereen.

Here's the letter we sent him with the CD.

Dear Kevin,

Thanks! I left positive feedback for you on eBay. Kevin, I feel kind of bad because I paid for only one call, and you made three separate attempts. I don't have the funds to send another seven dollars but I do have some stuff around the house that's worth seven dollars. I have a "Garfield Takes The Cake" book, a wicker magazine rack, a digital alarm clock that I think works, and a talking tomato from that "Veggie Tales" movie (it was my son's).

On second thought, I've got another idea. I think what you're doing with this whole win-a-prank-call-off-of-Ebay thing is really fresh. I'm starting a zine called "Nature Trail" and I could use a guy like you to review new CDs. I have a disc I want you to review, but keep in mind, it is TOTALLY extreme. I'm going to let it be a surprise. The deadline is soon, so I need your address quick! I'll send this CD as soon as you contact me. Hopefully you're still up for it! Got Milk? Ha! Ha!

P.S. I'm hoping for the same daring (read: ballsy) style used in your phone pranks. Don't let me down.


Kevin told us that he too had done several zines and wrote movie reviews for the school paper. He was really excited about the project but lost all enthusiasm after hearing the CD.

Dear Mark,

I don't know what to say about this. Is this supposed to be music? It just sounds like a couple assholes fucking around in the woods. Are they looking for Bigfoot or something? When you said "extreme" I was expecting some harder shit.


So the verdict is in! Bigfoot does not exist and me and my roommate should stop smoking so much pot. The question now is: Come up with another quest or get a job and a girlfriend and a life? Oooh, you know what would be funny? If I went undercover as a normal person for a year. I could temp and go to TGIFridays and document it all using hidden cameras. I think I am going to buy some beer and talk about that with Mark here for a really long time.