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The Unholy Quest of the Beast
It wasn't the hunters he minded. Or the misrepresentation in the press. Even the camera-toting tourists were good for a laugh now and then. No, more than anything, he just couldn't stand the roads. It was bad enough the freeway went right through his home, but complaining wasn't an option. No, that'd give him away. Crossing it, even at night, was a risk and a half. Risky for being seen, and for being hit by an inattentive driver. Probably yacking away on his damn phone too. Pricks, all of 'em.
Nonetheless, he managed the trek across the field of asphalt. An accident a few miles north has stopped traffic in one direction and filtered it sufficiently in the other. A few sprinting steps later, and any passing pair of eyes would see only what so many others could claim to see; a big blurry mass of fur.
Coming out of the woods, he pressed himself against a shadowy wall of the bus station and snuck into town taking his usual route. Past the station, through the Main Street tunnel - the ongoing construction made it easy to hide along the way - and around the Oakwood Elementary School playground. He couldn't resist giving the carousel a mighty spin, just to turn the head of the night watchman while he dashed off into darkness.
He entered the alley next to the basketball court. His next stop was the video store, but between him and his target lay an unforseen obstacle. A red sports car, overpriced and overpolished, was parked in the middle of the road. Its owner, a cocky, varsity jacket-wearing cretin he'd seen skulking about at night on occasion, was busy chatting up a girl - young, blonde, pretty, and completely uninterested in carrying on a conversation with the young man. But any attempt to express her disgust with him went unnoticed by the delusional jock, and any attempt to make a hasty escape was cut off as he grabbed her by the arm, refusing to release it.
The girl shut her eyes and turned her head away from him, whimpering for mercy. The hairy observer gave up on remaining perfectly hidden as custom normally dictated, and decided action must be taken by him if by no one else.
Racing out of the alley and staying in as many shadows as he could find, he lunged at a nearby street light, ramming it with his shoulder. The twenty-foot metal pole tipped over with shocking ease, and the jock turned gaping in horror. He jumped out of the way as the street light fell upon his precious automobile and pressed it sloppily in two.
While the young man sobbed in agony over his dearly departed, the girl backed away grinning. Then in the light of the broken light's firecracker sparks, she caught the briefest glimpse of the being responsible for the damage, and took off screaming herself.
An expected reaction, one he'd gotten time and time again. He knew better than to expect gratitude.
The rest of the journey was comfortably easy; he slipped past Galaxy Video and finally reached the back door of the mom-and-pop grocery store. He'd been delayed more than usual tonight; he hoped he wasn't too late.
He raised an ape-like hand, squeezed it into a mighty fist, and gently rapped upon the frail wooden door.
A small man, balding, bearded and wearing an apron, opened the door a moment later and looked outside, only to see a great mound of matted fur in front of him that bore a passing resemblance to a human body. He adjusted his glasses and looked upward, and upon seeing the wrinkled lips, scrunched nose, and marble-like blue eyes of the giant, smiled pleasantly.
"Hello, Bob," he said. "I was just about ready to come find you."
"Hi, Andy," the hairy one replied. "I haven't had the chance to come into town lately. Did my order come in yet?"
"Last week, actually," said old Andy. "I've been keeping it in the fridge for you." He turned and shouted down the hall, "David! Bob's here! Would you get his stuff out of Locker A?"
David, Andy's 15-year-old grandson, eventually came dragging a small bag and a large wrapped object out the door, presenting it proudly to big hairy Bob. Bob inspected the contents; a whole side of beef in the large package, a half-gallon of chocolate milk and a bag of Oreos in the small one. His mouth already began to water, the thought of starting in on the food with or without the consent of his hands certainly crossing its mind.
"Thanks, guys," he said with a sheepish chuckle. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
"You wanna come in for a while?" David asked eagerly. "Mythbusters is on."
"Love to, but I can't," said Bob, keeping an ear out for the sirens he'd been hearing the last few minutes. "Someone might be looking for me. I, uh...I sort of knocked over a street light on the way here."
Andy crossed his arms, and tapping his toe delivered his patented "Oh, really?" glare.
"Fine," Bob conceded, "I pushed it over. Can I use your east exit again?"
"Sure, sure," said Andy, ushering him inside.
Bob hoisted the side of beef over his shoulder, looped his pinky around the handle of the small bag, and followed the old man and his grandson.
