Chapter 31
The week goes by and I get yelled at by Dinah about five times because her audience isn't growing and nobody is buying her stupid pill.
They even force me to wear their Plutonium Cactus shirt to school, which immediately gets me sent to Dr. Collins's office since an image of a neon green cactus that looks a lot more like a giant dick isn't exactly school-appropriate.
“You stole emails from a Bigfoot-themed booth. They're not going to want to buy anything from you unless it's Bigfoot-related,” I try to tell her.
Dinah tells me, “Well, make some funny memes or something. Everybody loves funny memes.”
Instead of that, I furiously scribble down the script for our movie and assemble the best gay Sasquatch vaccine I can with scraps from Dinah's garage.
When the weekend comes, Felix and I are out in the woods filming our masterpiece.
“Is there any way I can make it up to you?” I ask.
“Make what up?” Felix says.
“Oh, come on. I ruined your birthday. And you're doing this for me.”
“I'm doing this for us.”
“I'm just sorry for screwing up everything all the time.”
“So maybe you should just stick to doing the job Roland's parents pay you to do and nothing else,” Felix says.
Maybe he's right.
“Action!” I yell in front of my phone, which is perched on a cooler to film me casting a line out into the lake. The sun is about to set, which seems like the perfect time for a gay Sasquatch to wake up before heading out to the clubs for the night, wherever those are.
“Felix, where are you?” I break character and look for him in the woods behind me.
He steps out in the furry costume we stole from Clint and spent three hours decorating with glitter and makeup.
The costume is way too big for him—the arms hang past his hands, and the head falls at a weird angle that indicates the Sasquatch has a severe neck problem.
“It's your line first! Look at the script,” he says.
I grab the script and scan the first page. Damn. I missed my opening line.
“Okay, let's rehearse instead of filming it,” I say.
Felix stumbles back into the woods and I pick up the fishing pole.
“Mama always told me the catfish in this lake are the best in the world,” I say, and flinch when I remember how gross and polluted the lake is. “Maybe I should change that line.”
Something lands at my feet with a small thud.
It's a copy of Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda, one of many books blacklisted by the IntegriTruth Moms.
“Oh no! This book is banned! How did it end up here?”
Another book flies out from the woods and hits the ground. It's Gender Queer.
“Who's there?” I shout.
Felix leaps out from the trees and roars, his arms flailing in the air.
“Cut. Felix, the roar is too macho. We're talking about a gay cryptid here.”
“What do you want me to do? I'm not Meryl Streep.”
“Think of Bigfoot at a drag show if he ripped a toenail during a lip-sync showdown.”
“Ugh, fine, fine,” he says. “How about this?” Felix screeches with the passionate wail of a wolf and a gay man who has found his favorite actor on a dating app.
I drop to my knees, laughing, and clap for him. “Exactly!”
He's less amused. When he tries to get back into place, he tumbles down the dirt trail, his arms windmilling, until he face-plants into the ground.
“This costume is too big,” Felix says.
“Maybe we can safety-pin it or something,” I say.
A twig snaps loudly from the woods. Felix and I freeze and wait. We're so far into the woods that a serial killer could tie us up and murder us without anybody ever finding us.
I point my flashlight toward the bushes and scan for any sign of life. “Hello?”
A tall, shadowy figure jumps up from behind the bushes. Felix and I scream and run. Before we can scramble ten feet, Felix trips over himself in the costume.
“Don't leave me, Wade! Help!”
I turn back and run to his side. The man comes forward, and I flash the light at him.
“You better back off! I'm dangerous AND ugly!” I shout.
“What are you fellas up to out here?”
It's that gristly voice that makes my skin crawl. Slowly, he treads into the light.
“Hey! Aren't you that—” Felix says. I see the sparkling teeth.
Fuckleberry Finn. It's him. Again.
And he's got his stupid bloodied coonskin cap that sits at a jaunty angle, and his smile stretches across his face like a crack in drywall. He's carrying a hunting rifle in one hand, and there's a knife the size of my forearm strapped to his thigh.
“If you mean Brandon Barton Buckley, then yes, you'd be right!”
“Holy fucking hell, why are you EVERYWHERE?” I say.
“I'm out here getting ready to hunt some feral hogs, and I heard a squeal that sounded like a dolphin being bopped in the booty hole by a sperm whale. Had to come over and investigate.” He taps me on my ass with his gun.
He eyes Felix in the oversized costume and rubs his finger in between Felix's hairy ape-man pecs.
“You boys playing dress-up?”
“We're making a film about a hairy swamp creature,” Felix says, his voice cracking.
Brandon does his clowny chuckle. “You mean my wife? Oh-ho-ho-ho!”
I step back and pull Felix with me. “Anyway, we'll leave you—”
“That's quite the Sasquatch getup you got there, son,” he says to Felix, circling us like we're prey. “But you're doing it all wrong. Lemme show you how a real Sasquatch moves.”
Brandon does a bizarre, rolling gait that would make me laugh if I wasn't so freaked out. “Hips loose, like they ain't quite fitted right in the socket. Arms swinging, like a tall, lithe ice-skating boy in his prime. I've studied 'em. Tracked 'em.”
He's standing too close now, the brim of his hat casting a shadow over his eyes.
“You boys ever seen one up close? The real thing?” He licks his lips. “They got these eyes like they can see straight through to your soul. Judge whether you're worthy.”
“It's a wild world. Anyway, we gotta go now,” I say, looking at Felix nervously.
“Maybe Brandon might be better at playing a Sasquatch than me,” Felix says. “He's even got the right dimensions.”
Brandon sets his rifle carefully against a tree and shrugs off his hunting vest. “I played the lead in my church's passion play, three years running. Got natural dramatic instincts.”
“This is no church play,” I say. “Our film's about a gay Bigfoot attacking people with banned books and a vaccine that also turns them gay.”
“Well, hot tamale!” he says. “I could elevate this production, boys. Give it that professional touch.” His voice drops to a whisper. “I know exactly how a Sasquatch would move… how it would hunt… how it would… convert.”
“That's generous of you,” I manage to say, “but the costume is pretty complicated to get into and—”
“Nah, I'm real good at squeezing into tight spots,” Brandon says with another wink that makes me want to bathe my eyes in hand sanitizer. “You boys just point that camera and direct. I'll give you a Sasquatch performance you'll never forget.”
Before I can protest further, he's helping Felix out of the costume with unsettling efficiency. His hands linger a second too long on Felix's shoulders as he pulls the fur over his head.
“Ain't you a handsome fella,” Brandon murmurs, looking Felix up and down like he's assessing a cut of meat. “No wonder this costume was swallowing you up whole.”
He shoots me another wink while he zips on the costume gracefully. It fits him perfectly. He pulls the mask over his head and rolls his shoulders, and suddenly the costume feels alive. When I bring the script over to him, he flings it high over his head like garbage.
“This Sasquatch doesn't follow scripts. He follows instincts,” he says. “Now, which one of you tender morsels am I hunting?”
Felix points to me as he swiftly hands the prop vaccine to Brandon like a live grenade. It's a turkey baster we filled with water and rainbow glitter.
“Okay, so you're going to chase me with the vaccine,” I tell him, but Brandon has already yelled, “Action!”
Felix holds my camera up as Brandon drops into a crouch that shouldn't be possible in such a bulky costume. He moves toward me with predatory grace, every step deliberate and silent and kind of gay. This is not the half-ass waddle Felix was doing. This is something else entirely.
Brandon lunges forward with startling speed, closing the distance between us in a heartbeat. He circles me, his gaze through the mask practically eating me alive.
“The gay agenda isn't all about books, boy. It's about claiming territory. Marking it.”
He raises the turkey baster, now somehow menacing despite its ridiculous appearance. The glitter water catches light from the setting sun, sparkling ominously.
“Gonna mark you now,” he hisses, his threat muffled through the mask. “Make you one of us.”
I back up, genuinely terrified now. “Felix, cut! CUT!”
Felix lowers the phone. “I don't think Bigfoot talks, Mr. Buckley.”
Brandon doesn't respond. He doesn't break character. He keeps advancing, the turkey baster raised like a syringe.
“The Sasquatch knows what you're afraid of,” he continues, his voice dropping even lower. “Knows what you're hiding. Knows what you want.”
My back hits a tree. I have nowhere left to retreat, unless I'm lucky and a tree monster swallows me.
“You're that boy who threw the coffee at me, ain't you?” he whispers with sadistic glee.
“Please stop.” My heart is pinballing all over inside of me right now.
Brandon stops inches from my face. Inside the mask, I hear him inhale deeply, like he's smelling me. He grabs my wrist with his free hand, his grip like iron. He holds the vaccine up to my face.
“The conversion begins,” he whispers. “First on the outside… then the inside.”
He steps back and bursts into a childish giggle. I gasp in relief.
“How'd you boys like that?”
“We'll need to shoot it again so Bigfoot isn't talking,” Felix says.
“We'll fix it in post, Felix,” I threaten through my teeth.
“Gets mighty hot in here,” Brandon says, removing the head.
When it comes off, his face is flushed and sweaty, his eyes wild.
“Like a sauna. You boys ever been to a Russian sauna before?” He picks up a fallen branch and pats it against Felix's ass.
“They got these big branches they beat you with while you're naked!”
This hostage crisis goes on for another two hours. On the bright side, Brandon stopped talking during the takes.
“Okay, that should be enough footage,” I say in a hurry, trying to keep my voice steady. “Thanks for all your help, Mr. Buckley.”
“We're just getting started,” he says, turning back to me. “Y'all haven't even seen my big finale. I was thinking the Sasquatch could carry his convert back to his lair. I could throw you over my shoulder right now, show you how it would look. Both of you, for that matter!”
“I don't think that's necessary,” Felix says, taking a step back with me.
Brandon makes a sound that might be a laugh, but in the costume it sounds like rocks grinding together. “You boys started something here you don't fully understand. There's power in these woods. Old power.”
“Great,” I say. “Let's do some more improv on camera. You go hide behind those trees and wait for me, okay?”
Brandon nods and puts his mask back on, then scurries down to the other side of the woods, clapping his hands a little too excitedly.
“RUN!” I shriek. We practically leave a trail of smoke from how fast we're darting out of there.
“What about the costume?” Felix asks.
“It's his now!”
Whatever the case, we got the footage, and now it's time to splice it together and get that prize money.