Sasquatch Rainbow School

A gust of late autumn wind struck Satch square on his broad nose. Most of his internal and external nasal hairs vibrated slowly, creating an annoying irritation. The Sasquatch turned over, drowsily, to face the hollow log, which still served as his peach cache. Just above him, a lean-to shelter of pine boughs shimmered in the early morning breeze. For a few brief moments before waking fully, Satch’s mind wandered back to the night, years ago, when that same hollow log had lured the giant Sasquatch into a fearful trap. He reflected on his training, which had transformed him into the most awesome superstar in professional basketball.. Finally, he moved his heel back and forth as if testing his repaired Achilles’ tendon severed in his final game. Since returning to the pinewoods, he had tested it many times, running and walking around the deer trails. Every tree, bush and fallen log seemed as familiar to the Sasquatch as a person’s own furniture. The forest was his rightful home, and each new day brought him a sense of deep inner peace. True, he had enjoyed his brief flirtation with fame, but his natural environment meant even more to him. Both dark eyelids popped open together, and Satch raised himself slightly on his hairy elbows. Then he scooted out of the lean-to backwards. Quickly, he raised himself up to his full eight-foot height and increased this by another three feet with a mighty stretch toward the gray sky. He yawned deeply, drawing the clear, crisp Eastern Washington forest air into the depths of his lungs. It was the same every morning - up at the first sign of dawn, the mighty stretch and the deep yawn. Then his part of the forest awoke with a flurry of activity. Satch began each day with a series of physical exercises, learned during his athletic training. First came the body bends. The Sasquatch raised his hands high overhead and then bent over to touch the palms flat on the forest floor. Without effort, he kept his knees straight during the entire process. Following 100 - 150 body bends, he performed 120 sit-ups and 90 pushups. By then, his enormous 550-pound frame had shook off the chill of the cool air, and he felt alive. He greeted his world with a mighty trumpeting bellow, “EEE --- OOO --- WAA!” In a flash, he raced off on a course through the forest known only to him. Fifteen minutes later, he collapsed in an exhausted heap in front of his refrigerator, the hollow log. The Sasquatch shoved a hairy arm inside, up to the elbow, and clutched six peaches. Quickly drawing them out, he shoved them all into the cave, which was his mouth. Almost immediately, the fragrant juices seeped out over his lower lip, catching on the thick mat of his chin whiskers. His eyes sparkled contentedly as he ate. Breakfast ended, as usual, with the “machine gun” act. With lips pursed into an O, Satch expelled the six peach pits with a “rat-a-tat-tat” against a tree trunk nearly 20 feet away. After wiping his juicy chin with a forefinger and then licking it clean, he ambled over to the edge of the forest at a vacant field. Far across the clearing, his eyes sought out the familiar sight of the Stevensons’ wood frame home. Satch recalled that he’d agreed to deliver several commercial pitches for their peaches at some supermarket in return for a continuous supply of peaches. The Sasquatch sensed that the time had arrived for him to approach the Stevensons and offer to complete the agreement. He headed across the field, noting the prickly stubs of broken weed stems on the soles of his leathery, 18-inch feet. They tickled, rather than hurt. Some of the taller weeds also tickled his hairy ankles and shins. As always, the approachingpeach orchard appeared inviting to the fruit-loving animal. Just before reaching the peach trees, Satch was startled by a strongly assertive female voice, “Well, hello, Big Fellow. I was wondering when you’d come.” It was Marcie Stevenson, the new business head of the family. She’d taken on that role when her dad, Dan, had died several years earlier. Stepping between a couple of trees and into an open area, the young lady, dressed in plaid shirt and jeans, appeared completely self-assured. Satch waved a mighty arm back and forth, shouting, “Greetings from the forest. You didn’t have to worry about me not showing up. I like your peaches too much.” As the two figures approached each other, they both grinned and then shook hands. Marcie grimaced and yelled, “Ow! Ow! Take it easy Satch. You don’t realize your own strength.” Quickly, Satch released his vice-like grip, and his gigantic eyes looked down, apologetically. “Gosh, Marcie, I’m really sorry. It’s been quite a while since I shook hands with anyone. Guess I just forgot how. You OK, Marcie?” “Sure,” she replied, inspecting her trembling right hand, “just a few broken bones, no doubt. I’ll be all right.” Quickly, Marcie erased the pain from her mind and grinned, as her thoughts turned to Satch’s public appearances. “Come over to the house, and we’ll talk business.”