I'm early this week! How do you like that?

I won't say this is my best story, but it's definitely my favourite so far :) I had started an entirely different story but the idea for this one came to me Tuesday morning in the shower and I banged it out quite quickly.

Note for non-Winnipeggers: Salisbury House is a chain of diners in town, sort of a Winnipeg institution. They call their hamburgers "Nips" (I believe there's also a "Super Nip")

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Bigfoot Has Coffee In A Diner, In Winnipeg

Bigfoot sits in a booth in the Salisbury House in the bus terminal in downtown Winnipeg. Now Sals isn't exactly fine dining - except maybe for the one they built on the Provencher Bridge - but Bigfoot doesn't mind. His species is semi-nomadic and most of his meals in the past were scavenged. Being able to walk up to a counter and be handed a tray of food is real novelty for him. The fries are pretty good, too. When he first walked from the cashier to his table with his fries and a bowl of minestrone soup, the cellphone cameras were clicking away. But soon the patrons settled down as they all reached the same conclusion: one photograph of Bigfoot is worth a million bucks. But dozens of photos are pretty much worthless. The diner is about half full and most of the other customers sit as far from Bigfoot as they can; he's very big and quite menacing. And then there's the smell.

One old timer, though, sits in the booth beside Bigfoot. Baseball cap and deep wrinkles. Their backs are to each other, although the old man has one arm on the shelf between the booths so he's partially turned toward the large, hairy monster.

"Just got in from up north?"

Bigfoot twists around toward him, but has to move the table first. The booths aren't really built for people as large as he is.

"Yep," he rumbles.

"Whereabouts are you from?"

"I grew up near Thompson."

"I always figured you guys lived out west. In the mountains."

Bigfoot shakes his head slowly. "Not all of us. My family is spread all over the place. It's not that we don't get along," he lies, "We just don't feel any big need to see each other all the time." He spears more fries with his fork and eats them carefully to avoid getting ketchup in his fur. "I even have cousins over in Nepal. Don't talk to them much either. Phone service over there isn't very reliable."

The old man, nodding, takes a sip of his coffee and asks, "How was the bus down?"

"I get motion sickness," says Bigfoot, "and the general store didn't have any Gravol."

"That happens to my wife. The trick is you gotta sit near the front and just stare at the horizon. You look at the trees whizzing by at a hundred clicks an hour and you're going to puke."

Bigfoot cocks his head thoughtfully. His eyes are black pits set deep in his face, between his tan snout and his hairy eyebrow ridge. "Thanks, I'll remember that for the next leg of my trip."

"Where are you headed?"

Bigfoot points a gigantic finger over the man's shoulder toward the window. "West. Going to try to find work on the oil rigs in Alberta. I'm pretty strong so I figure they'll have something for me to do."

The old timer tugs on some of the fur on Bigfoot's arm. "Covered up like you are, I don't imagine the cold much bothers you either."

Bigfoot nods in agreement, his mouth full of fries.

"What are you anyhow? Some kind of monkey? Like, an ape?"

Bigfoot rolls his eyes. It's a discussion he's had before, "And what are you? A chimpanzee?"

A priest sitting a few tables away looks up from the Nip he's eating and says, "Now, now. Let's not get into that argument tonight."

The old timer shrugs apologetically. "I'm just trying to make conversation here. Don't see many Sasquatch in Winnipeg."

A waitress passing by with a coffee pot refills the old man's cup and tells them, "One of them came through last winter, actually. Wore a big coat, though. And a hat. Guess he didn't want folks gawking at him."

Bigfoot says, "That must have been my brother. A little shorter than me? Lighter fur?" When Bigfoot takes a sip of his coffee, the mug is completely swallowed up by his paw. A doll's teacup in the hand of a very hairy child.

"Yeah, that sounds like the fellow I saw."

"He went out west, too?"

"Nope. South to Los Angeles. Hollywood. He wanted to get into acting." Bigfoot tilts his gaze toward the ceiling as he thinks back. "When we were younger, he and I used to sneak into town. Just the outskirts. We'd go into peoples' yards and look through their living room windows and watch their television sets. I never really had much interest in it but my brother was fascinated. He wanted more than anything to be on television."

The waitress laughs and says, "Well hell, he could have done that just by knocking on the door of a news studio. The CBC is practically next door to the bus terminal."

"Oh he knew that. But he wanted to get recognized for his acting talent, not just for being a freak show. Peering in through a window, we couldn't hear what was going on. But to my brother it all looked so glamourous. His favourite show was Melrose Place."

"How did he make out?" asks the old man, "Have you heard from him?"

"He's doing alright, I guess. He sent me a letter a few months back. He's gotten some work in soap operas. It's steady income, but it isn't prime time. And paying for twice weekly full-body waxes really adds up. But he figures his big break has to come sooner or later."

The waitress looks around the restaurant and then sits down at Bigfoot's booth. It's around 1:00 AM and there is a certain listlessness to everyone in the restaurant now that the initial excitement of Bigfoot's arrival has worn off. Patrons pick at their food slowly, not to savour it, but instead they appear to the lack energy to eat any faster.

She asks Bigfoot, "So if you aren't following your brother, why did you leave your hometown?"

"Well, it's more like my home forest. Manitoba Hydro is building a new dam and it's going to flood out my territory. So it was time to move on."

The old timer says, "They can do that? Just roust you out of your home and send you packing because they want to sell more electricity to Minnesota? You should at least get some kind of compensation."

Bigfoot shrugs. "The MP for my region couldn't help me. Sasquatch can't vote so I wasn't, technically, one of his constituents."

"Son of a bitch. But you aren't, like, some kind of endangered species?"

Bigfoot glances around the room. "I don't feel like I'm in any kind of danger."

The old man takes an angry slurp of his coffee. "This is why I haven't voted since Honest Bob lost out to Mr. Rock Star Trudeau. None of the politicians in this country have any substance anymore."

Bigfoot heaves a sigh, an exhalation that has enough force to scatter the napkins on his table and rustle that waitress's hair. "But what are you going to do? I don't need their money. If my parents taught me one thing, it's how to be independent."

One of the other patrons approaches their table. He's in his early twenties and has scruffy hair and a black pullover. He was one of the people snapping photos when Bigfoot first came in.

"Excuse me," he says, almost a stammer, "But you're Bigfoot? You're a Sasquatch?"

"My name's actually Sam."

"Oh," the youth seems to consider this for a moment before continuing. "We had a question for you, my friends and I." He points over at the table he came from where four others around his age sit.

Bigfoot clasps his paws together, puts them on the table and patiently tells the young man, "I'm an omnivore, and I don't eat humans."

"Oh. That's cool. But that's not what I was going to ask. We wanted to know if it was true that Elvis was really kidnapped by by you guys. Sasquatch, I mean."

"Who?"

"Elvis. Elvis Presley. The King of Rock And Roll?"

"Oh. I don't get to listen to much music," Bigfoot looks down at his plate and continues, "I found a transistor radio in the dump a long time ago, but the only music I get from it is classical stuff on the CBC."

"Oh."

The young guy looks disappointed and walks back to sit with his friends. Bigfoot meanwhile finishes the last of his fries and clears his throat.

"I think I'd like to see the Golden Boy and the Legislature before I catch my bus out to Alberta. So if you'll excuse me -"

"Sure," says the waitress, "Have a good trip."

"Nice chatting with you, Sam," says the old timer.

Bigfoot gets up, squeezes out of the booth and walks away.

The old man watches him go, takes another sip of coffee and says, "Everyone goes out to Alberta."

"A lot of them come home," says the waitress.

Bigfoot holds open the door for a couple coming in. They'll later swear he was humming Blue Suede Shoes as he walked out onto Portage Avenue. Ten minutes later a news crew arrives.

5 responses to "Week #9 - Bigfoot Has Coffee In A Diner, In Winnipeg "

Laura wrote: Thursday, 31 Jan 2008 11:37 Heeeee! :D

DJ wrote: Thursday, 31 Jan 2008 13:00 You know I'm a sucker for anything featuring our hairy friend ... Nice work, buddy, and I loved the ending! :)

Ginny! wrote: Friday, 01 Feb 2008 00:21 Nice! ^_^ I like the "everyone goes to Alberta" bit.

Karen wrote: Friday, 01 Feb 2008 14:13 Oh my goodness, I really liked this one because it was smartly funny. Wonderful. And I have never been in the Sals there, even though I walk past it every weekday. Lovely setting, in any case.

Debs wrote: Saturday, 02 Feb 2008 15:08 Waxing, very cute :)

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