Bigfoot is back

The grammatically challenged sociopathic
hero returns in Graham Roumieu’s
sasquatch sequel

by JULIET WATERS

Some of us, according to Bigfoot: I Not Dead, may have been wondering what happened to the b-list mythological creature since the publication of his cult memoir Me Write Book. Apparently, he disappeared for a couple of years, but this is the kind of thing that’s easy to overlook with a celebrity best known for not being seen.

For readers who assumed this latest disappearance had something to do with the fate of the young fan who made the mistake of telling Bigfoot he wanted to be just like his monster idol… (“It warm me heart. Then I reach into pocket, pull out fist size rock and smash they skull in. No want the competition. It a tough world, Junior.”)…well…it’s complicated.

“All start with tragic hot plate related fire at Bigfoot compound…. So scare by fire and sad about burn ravioli that Bigfoot just run. Eventually run so far decide no point going back. Some people think I perish in flames, others say I stage death. Neither true. Instead, like Kerouac, Bigfoot decide to travel land. Like Odysseus, have hard time get back, romance some ladies and slay monster both figurative and real. Like OJ, just want run down highway for little while and clear name later. Most important thing be that Bigfoot want share experiences and what they teach about life, love, self…so peace on Earth can finally be achieve.”

Any doubts about Bigfoot’s deep new universal connection may be somewhat eased by Graham Roumieu’s dreamy illustration of our hero standing on the back of an ancient sea turtle, surfing an inky black evening tide, cloaked and hooded in what would appear to be the silky skin of a giant dolphin. The chapter “Watershit Down,” however, will soon annihilate any faith. Here Bigfoot returns to his original forest ’hood.

Little of the fabled beauty remains, save the lovely watercolours. In the murky turquoise distance hangs the swaying corpse of a suicidal bunny. And who is that skanky squirrel lighting the robin’s crack pipe? “Feel sorry for my old friends. Then some asshole squish blueberry on hood of Bigfoot limo. Think learn them lesson. Buy up whole block for cheap and have bulldoze for condo development.”

To critics who think a grammatically challenged sociopath couldn’t possibly have another twice-exceptional book in him, Bigfoot has this to say: “go screw self, they no never get Bigfoot.” It’s only fair to point out, however, that Roumieu deserves some credit for his brilliant and demented illustrations. Imagine the best New Yorker cartoons you’ve ever read. Now picture them mutilated in a paint mixer on South Park. Now imagine re-reading those cartoons and laughing out loud. This must be what the monster means by refining his “Bigfootocity.”

That said, the Bigfoot memoirs aren’t all swirly squalor, gore, perversity and gut-splitting laughter. Bigfoot has vulnerabilities, like his poor sense of direction. “People think Bigfoot master of woodland navigation. Move through darkness like velvet torpedo. Not true. Mostly just stumbling around smashing head into branches trying recognize where am but every fucking tree look the same.”

There are endearing, poignant moments. Like the time no one showed up for his birthday, “Just me and cake and hat and tears.” Clearly he does want to improve, but obviously just doesn’t know how. “Be Oscar Wilde of woods. It so hard. Brain size of apricot. So, so hard think good. Maybe if eat Kelsey Grammer of Frasier fame, will absorb him soul and all attribute like McDonald’s combo meal.”

Still, no matter how misunderstood Bigfoot is, or always will be, don’t wish for the best. Take this “CLARIFICATION” seriously: “Should no have explain this again but seem you people just not get it through you thick skulls. BIGFOOT NOT GRANT WISHES LIKE LEPRECHAUN OR GENIE. Only exception be that if you want wish for kick in you face, then go ahead and rub me belly. Otherwise, fuck off and get job.”

Bigfoot: I Not Dead by Graham Roumieu,
Plume Books, hc, 96 pp, $16.50