Okay, Picture this, if you will…
Beck and the Grandwrex are on the picnic table making slime (yuk)
Mr.Wrekker has discovered large holes in his his big dog food stockpile in the barn. He’s had rats before. He got a barn cat.
This is big, by any micey standards.
Aw.Snap! It’s Raccons! He scared them up from their sleeping quarters from under an old tarp.
He calls out for help. Hamza and Son-of-a-wrek run to his aide.
Now, I’m thinking WTH is going on now? I implore the kids to not move from the table. I figured out from the screams and cursing it’s ‘coons’.
We sit at the table and watch the rodeo. (Slime is forgotten)
The barn doors are wide open, creating a portal for veiwing.
It’s like a montage from a Scooby-doo cartoon. Grown men running back and forth. Occasionally little masked bandits run by.
Ms.Coon and her charges are sometimes being chased , other times doing the chasing.
‘Cat’, the barn cat has decamped. It’s sitting on a fence post taking a leisurely bath.
All of a sudden Son runs out with a baby raccoon in his gloved hands. Looks around…what to do? What to do?
In a screech and flurry the baby coon evaporated into dust. Gone. Son looks at his hands, alarmingly.
Hamza comes from behind the barn. Stupefied.
BigWrek comes out, his hair mussed, hat and one glove missing. Cursing, I might add.
I tell him to hush, young ears are listening.
He calls off the chase. The hell you say?
It seems live trapping will prove a better abatement procedure. Yay! Here’s a use for those hoarded sardines.
How is this thread about a Bigfoot, you might ask?
Calm down, I’m getting to it.
So, in the dark of the moon last night I created a Bigfoot sighting on the game cams Son-of-a-wrek has placed around the pond. I took the ghillie suit top to the pond. Imagine this: I have on shorts, rubber boots a ghillie suit top. A black face mask and my Buddy Holly-type reading glasses. (Hey, I’m blind without glasses) I’ll give you a moment to think about that look.
…
I get in behind the camera and place my ‘Bigfoot hairy’ arm in view of the camera and wait for it to snap the picture. Luckily I didn’t have to wait long.
Then I go down the incline toward the pond and use my Bigfoot cutout to make foot prints. I use the flash light to make sure my boot prints are scuffed up. And sneak back to the house. Success! Back to my Dope and eventually sleep.
I was awakened early by the cats, as usual. I’m surprised to come down and Son is already here. He and his Dad are on the deck drinking coffee. I opened the door to let the dogs out. And I hear the conversation. Dad is telling Son he’s full of shit and to go get that cam and show him.
They go to the barn to look at the footage on BigWreks computer.
I keep my mouth shut and cook them some eggs and sausage.
While they eat, Son asked me didn’t I have some of that plaster of paris stuff? I lie and tell him no, no I don’t think so.
BigW sez he has a bag of quickrete that might serve. It was under that tarp where the Raccoons were living: And… Ba da bing, we have a Raccoon rodeo! For all our veiwing pleasure.
The rodeo suspended Sons verve for making molds of the ‘fake’ prints.
Thank god. I was alarmed he may call official persons to come examine his cam footage and quickrete footprints.
Nah. I’m not worried. His ravings come off a little high pitched and crazed. No one would REALLY believe him. I hope. :eek:
I’m thinking I’m not gonna do anything else for awhile. My pranks may put my beloved Son-of-a-wrek in a Looney bin. That, and Mr.Wrekker might be sorely pissed at me if I get caught.
Nah, I ain’t worried. His rantings and ravings go unnoticed around here, for the most part. 
