Splatsquatch: The Ocean Crest Chronicles #1

The Robin's Egg

"Look at the size of them footprints," Skeeter said as Mack took pictures of the giant footprints. The constable took out a tape measure from his pocket and stretched it the length of one of the imprints in the dirt of the forest floor. "Twenty four inches. Dang."

"If his feet are this big I would hate to think of how big his other body parts are, if know what I mean. Wink wink nudge nudge," Mack said with a wink.

Skeeter took off his hat and scratched his head. "If you are referring to his junk, that old wives tale ain't true," the constable replied.

"I know I'm going to regret asking," Mack said, "But just how would you know this?"
"I had this cousin with feet as big as a wild mountain gorilla," Skeeter answered, "But he had one of them micro penises."

"A micro penis?"

"Yeah. A micro penis. The little fella looked like a tiny little robin's egg poking out of a nest. The nest being his pubes."

"I get the picture."

"Naw we never took no pictures. It were embarrassing enough for him as it was."

"Not did you get a picture? I said I get the picture."

"Oh. I just thought you was curious as to what it looked like. Or were just a perv."

Mack shook his head. There wasn't any real point in trying to have too much of a conversation with Skeeter Willis. He wasn't much for thinking or book learning, but he made up for it in some other qualities that nobody in Ocean Crest, Oregon, could ever figure out. In fact, people around Ocean Crest couldn't really figure out what Skeeter was good for. And even if he got his job by default, because nobody ran against him in the election for the city constable, he was all Mack had for help and the sheriff appreciated that the guy tried to do his job right. From time-to-time.

Sheriff McCoon didn't fault Skeeter because a lot of the people in Ocean Crest didn't think that he was much more than a wise cracking, smart ass who was okay at his job, but was good for one hell of a laugh. So he knew where Skeeter was coming from and no matter how dull the guy was the sheriff had a good amount of respect for him. Not that he would ever tell him that.

The two of them followed the tracks into the forest near Laurel's Holler, but the gigantic footprints just up and disappeared. "You think we missed the track trail somewhere?" Skeeter asked the much taller sheriff.

Shaking his head Mack said quietly, "No I don't. The trail was as clear as it gets and something that heavy couldn't just stop making tracks. Unless," Mack's voice quieted and he looked from side to side in a fluid motion, "he is in the trees above of waiting to pounce."

Terror washed over Skeeter's face. He pulled out his pistol, assumed a firing position and aimed the gun up in the trees. With panicked breaths he waved his gun this way and that.

Smirking, Mack said, "Good god, man. You're really easy to spook. I kind of regret issuing you that gun."

With a puzzled look, Skeeter said, "So you don't really think he's up in the trees?"

"No, constable. I don't think he is up in the trees."

"Then where the hell did he go?"

"I don't know. Maybe your mama's house."

"My mama lives in Kentucky, so that 's unlikely."

"Yes," Mack said with a sigh. "Yes it is."

The sheriff was relieved when Arlene's voice came over the radio. "Sheriff, you're needed back in town," the black brick squawked. "There was a break in at Bolton's last night."

Mack scooped up the radio and replied, "Copy that, Arlene. I'll head back in right now. Should be there by nine."

"Make it eight forty five. Micheal Bolton is beside himself," Arlene's staticky voice said.

Frustration showed on Mack's face. "Fucking Micheal Bolton," he muttered to himself before speaking into the radio. "Copy that. Be there ASAP." The sheriff tucked the radio back into its case and gave the forest one last look around. Then he turned his attention to Skeeter. "Why don't you poke around some more out here while I go see what got swiped from Micheal Bolton."

"Oh hell no," the constable replied. "I ain't hanging around here with an nine foot crazed beast running around here wanking himself."

"This is Laurel's Holler," Mack replied. "Early morning or not there may be some frisky teens running around naked up here."

As Skeeter turned to walk further into the forest he said, "Yeah, I guess I could have a look around."

"God speed, constable," Mack replied as he started walking back towards his vehicle. "God speed."