Free Bigfoot Crank Stomp by Erik Williams

rocks into his hand. He unclipped his Leatherman from his belt, unfolded the pliers, and started crushing the rocks. It took a few seconds. Once done, he snorted pinch after pinch until the handful was gone.
    Hot damn! he thought and jumped to his feet. He hopped up and down for a minute, bobbing his head back and forth like a prize fighter. Oh that felt good. Energy coursed down his arms to the tips of his fingers. Euphoric and orgasmic all in one.
    Gabe slipped the remainder of the baggie in his pocket and paced back and forth. Back and forth. Thinking. Brain storming. Planning. Yeah, planning. He had it figured out. All at once. Like a fucking waterfall of knowledge. Crystal clear. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it before. Armored truck? Stupid, stupid, stupid. He didn’t want this thing alive. Dead, dead, deadskie. Had to be. Only way to ensure control. Plus, he was still going to bag a ton of dough with the body of Bigfoot. Real proof one of those motherfuckers exist? Fucking priceless!
    “Sheriff.”
    Gabe stopped pacing, turned, and found Betts and Pronger staring at him. “What?”
    “You were talking out loud about proof and dough and Bigfoot.”
    I was? Shit, need to simmer down and maintain. “I said be back here in five minutes.”
    “It’s been five minutes,” Betts said.
    Gabe checked his watch. Damn, time flies when you’re fucking high. “Okay, we need to get to work.”
    “Should we wait for Stanger and Lyle?” Pronger said.
    “No, we’ve already wasted too much time.” Gabe scratched the side of his neck. “Besides, we need them here for the climax. Before that, we need to lay the groundwork.”
    “What do you want us to do?”
    Gabe pointed at one of the bins. “Grab a bunch of baggies and go down into the woods. I don’t know, about a half mile. Start sprinkling the rocks every few feet all the way back here.”
    Pronger and Betts looked at the tree line before turning back to Gabe. Their eyes were wide and faces slack.
    “You want us to go into the woods?” Betts said.
    “That’s what I fucking said, wasn’t it?”
    “Yeah, but Bigfoot’s in there.”
    “That’s right. So we need to lure him back here.”
    “By making a trail of meth,” Pronger said.
    “Ding-ding we have a fucking winner.” Gabe cackled and stomped his foot. “Now grab them baggies and get to fucking work.”
    “Sheriff, I don’t know if this is a good idea,” Betts said.
    Gabe pulled his .38 and scratched his cheek with the barrel. “Betts, you wouldn’t know a good idea if it shot you in the fucking eye, would you?”
    Betts winced as if already shot. He followed the gun as Gabe lowered it back to his side. “No, I wouldn’t I guess.”
    “That’s right. Since I’m the Sheriff and you’re my deputy, grab some baggies and head on into those woods. Don’t like it, quit and run for Sheriff.”
    “Sheriff,” Pronger said. “It’s just, well, we don’t know where that thing is down there.”
    “Based on all the roaring and howling, I’d say on the other side of the fucking valley. If you two—” Gabe pointed at Pronger and then Betts with the gun. “—don’t want to have a run in with it, I’d recommend you get the meth planted right quick. Now go on.”
    Pronger and Betts moved to the bin and started stuffing baggies in every empty pocket they had. Gabe stood over them, motioning them to hurry up by waving the gun in circular motions. He tapped his foot and shook his head.
    “Faster, people.”
    “That’s all the room we’ve got,” Betts said.
    “What about inside your shirts? Stuff it like you’re stealing food from the shelter.”
    Pronger and Betts opened their shirts and stuffed away. By the time they were done, they looked like they’d each gained about twenty pounds.
    “Good,” Gabe said. “Now off into the woods you go, fat boys.”
    Betts moved to the tree line. Pronger eyed Gabe who shooed him with the gun. He joined Betts and both looked over their