Bigfoot

So I've had a few Red Stripes now, Jamaica's finest schwilly beer, and I gotta say, having gone so long without a beer has really paid off. I feel pretty invincible right now.

I feel like I could whip Sasquatch's ass in a fair, out in the open fight. None of this dodging through the underbrush of some Northen Oregon forrest, playing cat-and-mouse ninja-type shit. I'm talking about the kind of scrap where I hit on his woman in a bar after about 3 pitchers of Fat Tire. He looks up from the pool table where he's making some serious bank (1. Yes, pun intended. 2. If you met Sasquatch in a bar, you'd assume you could take him in a game of 8-Ball) and sees me slowly but steadily rubbing my garbage against his woman's kiester. He comes over and pushes me away from her, still holding his pool cue. I fall down because he took a cheap shot but I flip up onto my feet from my back, like The Rock in Doom. Then I come flying in with a left to his gut. While he's doubled over I grab his pool cue and bust it over his head. Right before we really start to tussle, we hear the distinct *Chuk-CHUK* of a 12-gauge chambering a round.

From behind Ol' Betsy, the bartender says, "You assholes take it outside, I'm on parole."

So me and Sasquatch head out to the parking lot to do the man dance....Or the Man/Man-like dance. I don't know if his thumbs are opposable, so I don't know what to call the dance. Any way we square off, ready to see who goes home with a beautiful lady and who ends up wiping his ass with leaves in the middle of B.F.E.

THAT'S how invincible I feel right now.

Rev. Joshua