How It All Turned Out

      “You know, you’ll never see him again, right?” said Ramona a couple of days later.

    Ralph was lounging around in the cave after a big venison dinner, having told her about the strange meeting in the clearing and his long conversation with Louis.
    “I don’t know what he’s going to do,” yawned Ralph, "but  he was a lot calmer when he left."  He rolled over and went to sleep.

              

*** 

    It was an abandoned farm. No one had lived or farmed there for twenty or so years. The native Alders and blackberries and all that other anonymous brush were coming back to re-establish their dominance. Senile apple and cherry trees shivered in ruin.
    It was late in the year so there was no foliage to block the dismal view of the farmhouse. There was a real Blair Witch vibe to the scene. No lights warmed the empty windows, which looked like empty eye sockets, though rectangular.
    It was a two-story Scandinavian style PNW farmhouse with a basement underneath. The door to the basement in back was slightly ajar.
    Now, since leaving his long conversation with Ralph, Louis had completely forgotten his promise to come back and meet the family. He had also taken up howling a bit once more. His toe pads were sore and worn. He had walked and loped and slunk even, for many a mile and he was looking for shelter. Being basically a big shaggy black mutt he had a good nose on him. He was smelling for shelter, in fact.
    He was a cross-country walker. Howlers do better to stay off the public thoroughfares. He finally came upon the deserted old farmhouse and saw that slightly open door and smelled shelter and thought some Cryptid version of “bingo!” He smelled the unmistakable scent of food and even sleep down there. He invited himself into the basement.
    It was dark. The concrete floor had mud tracked in a trail that led back to a corner of the main room. It was close in there out of the damp wind. It smelled a lot like his last shelter way back in the mountains of home.
    In that corner Louis found a nice down sleeping bag laid out and next to it one of those tiny camp stoves which unfolds and is so small you can carry it around in your pack. On the stove was an open can of Dinty Moore beef stew. Next to it was a spoon and an open box of crackers.
    Louis was just sitting there with his large shaggy tail wrapped around his feet getting ready to help himself when Folkie Joe, their owner, pushed his way through the selfsame door that Louis had pushed himself through. Folkie Joe did not expect to see the Ozark Howler drooling over his dinner. He let out an astonished yelp.
    “What or who in the name of biscuits and gravy are you?” hollered F. Joe.
    Louis turned his bleary red eyes upon Joe and said, “Maurice. My ma called me Maurice.” (Goes to show ya, doesn’t it?) “Who are you?”
    Visibly steadying himself, Folkie Joe said, “my street name is Folkie Joe, and I was just out there taking a wizz, and when I come back, I find you staring at my dinner!”
    “I’m hungry Joe. That big hairy guy out in the woods gave me a beer but that’s all. And he sure talks a lot! Well, we had cigars too, but that doesn’t fill the belly, does it?”
    Seeing that the course of wisdom indicated placation rather than confrontation with this hulking shaggy beast, Folkie Joe said, “hey, I have another can of the stuff. Do you want it hot or cold?” 

***

    “So how did you end up with a name like Folkie Joe?” inquired Maurice while lapping cold stew.
    “Ahh, that started way back when I was a meteorology student at the U. I used to stand on the Ave and sing the weather report and people would put change in my hat and I never did do a real weather report on TV or anything. But I did keep singing on the street. It doesn’t pay very well Maurice. So here I am and there you are.”
    “Hey Joe, I just remembered something. I know where we can get some dinner I betcha! I said I’d come back and meet this guy’s wife and kid! I do believe I will do so. Why don’t you come with me?!”
    It was agreed that they should do so and so they set out walking back to the forest.

*** 

    Meanwhile, out on his favorite log Ralph was showing Twigg how to blow bubbles with just his mouth and a soap solution. Oh yes, Ralph is all about soap. He doesn’t stink like the other Sasquatches. Oh, no! Ralph’s scent is that of pine, and mint and just a titch of musk.
    Twigg was just about to try it himself. The trick is not to swallow the soap but to gently blow through the soap membrane.
    Just about then four fundamentalist Sasquatch of the natural variety appeared silently before Ralph and his son. These fellows’ scent could scald the paint off a wall. Reproach was in their eyes. They were there to confront a sinner who was teaching his own child the ways of man. Besides, he was drawing attention to the whole question of whether they existed or not. (Come on! He was giving interviews!)
    Twigg started crying and ran back to the cave to Ramona, leaving his dad to deal. Ramona had just put a whole wild piglet on to roast, when Twigg zoomed into the cave howling with alarm.
    The clearing was getting really crowded. And tense. 

***

    Right when the debate was about to begin Maurice, the Ozark Howler and Folkie Joe, the weatherman strode in from stage left. This changed the balance of power somewhat by adding the random element of surprise.
    Seeing his buddy in trouble, Maurice loped around and around the large hominids howling like the very devil he sort of was. These Squatches were forced to put their hands over their ears. They began to feel as if the whole situation was making them conspicuous.
    Folkie Joe took his harmonica out, putting it in its holder, and began to play and sing old Pete Seeger hits like Which Side Are You On Boys! 

    While that was sinking in, he went on to If I Had A Hammer and then to a homey version of Close to You.
    That did it. The four fundamentalist heavyweights faded back into the Doug firs and the mist and the gloom and the silence. It seemed as if they had never existed at all, so profound was their absence, which is just exactly the way they like it!

    “Hey man,” crowed Ralph agreeably, “good to see you again! You brought a friend! Good, good! Hey, always glad to see you again any old time!

    “Ramona’s cooking a Whole Hog! Let’s go see if it’s done yet, but first let me get another sixpack of that Shaggy Dog Dunkel stuff from down there….”