Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Bigfoot Flea Market

Well, it's been awhile since I've posted. I wish you all had been out with me, camping in the wilds. It was beautiful, but it's nice to be back to a warm bed and a hot shower in the morning...not to mention being able to get caught up on things...

...such as this email, which I share with permission, although the author wants to remain anon:

Dear Rusty,

I want to share something that happened to my wife and me the other night. If you or any of your readers have any thoughts on this, I'd like to hear them. It has me scared to go back out camping unless I take pink flamingoes along.

We were out in a location in eastern Oregon, a small town with about 200 residents that's pretty sleepy most of the time. This particular small town has a pretty good tourism base, and one of their claims to fame is a big flea market they hold once a year. It's a big deal and lots of people come to it.

The town is also in the mountains, and there have been Bigfoot sightings nearby, though the locals don't take it too seriously.

We were camped not far from town. We have a camper, and my wife has these silly pink flamingoes she puts out when we camp, along with some tiki lamps and a few other funky things. She's all into it. We were there—you guessed it—so she could go to the flea market and get more kitsch. All in fun.

Well, we woke up in the middle of our last night there and heard something that sounded kind of like sort of a chatter. This scared the hell outta my wife and I. I finally got up the nerve to get up and turn on the porch light, and at that point, something really big started rocking the camper.

My wife started screaming and it stopped.

There were other campers around, and they all woke up and turned on their lights. After it was all over, a couple of them said they'd seen something big and hairy running off.

The next morning, we looked out and all my wife's junk was gone.

So, I'm wondering, do you know if Bigfoot has kitschy taste?

(If anyone sees some pink flamingoes in the woods around Sumpter, Oregon, they're probably my wife's—but truthfully, I hope I never see them again.)

Sincerely, A.L.

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