I live in a small desert town called Christmas Valley, in southern Oregon. I’ve come here for one purpose, to find Sasquatch. Through perilous research on YouTube, I have reason to believe Sasquatch resides here, in Christmas Valley.
I began my quest at the liquor store, I bought a bottle of gin, some tobacco and water, in hopes to lure the beast, and I also wanted to get fucked up.
I sat outside the store and took a few shots, I began to feel social. I rolled a cigarette and started to interrogate patrons entering and exiting the liquor store, there is nothing more forthright and loose than an alcoholic, especially before and after the fix.
It didn’t take long. A wiry fellow pushing 200 years was my first lead. He initially laughed concerning my questions, he had enough teeth to count at a glance, he looked like a poor alcoholic Mr. Burns with frenetic hair, I felt like I was looking into a mirror that showed the future, essentially a crystal ball. I told him I would share my gin and tobacco if he took me to Sasquatch, he selfishly agreed. And we were off.