CHAPTER TWELVE
The owner came rushing out of the back. “What’s wrong, Ma?”
“My Bigfoot Bars are gone!” she announced.
“Those bars,” Uchenna whispered to Elliot. “They’re sort of like the ones your mom and grandma make.”
“Yeah,” said Elliot. “So?”
“So, isn’t Jersey obsessed with those bars?”
A motion from above caught their eyes. They looked up and saw the little Jersey Devil sitting on the head of a wooden Bigfoot statue, happily munching on a Bigfoot Bar.
“Oh no . . .”
Uchenna hissed at Professor Fauna, “Professor, hand me the backpack.”
The professor quietly handed it over. Unfortunately, neither he nor Uchenna realized that the backpack’s food compartments were unzipped—and two dozen Bigfoot bars went spilling out onto the floor.
“There!” the owner’s mother yelled. “There they are! That strange man STOLE them!”
Professor Fauna backed up against a wall. From the booth in the corner, Elliot heard Grace Goodwind shout, “Doug, roll the film! This could be good!” She slid out of her seat, grabbed a mic from Andy’s camera bag, and pulled up to her full, imposing height. She straightened her blue dress with a couple of expert flicks and tugs, shook out her shampoo-commercial-quality hair, and said, “On me!”
As the owner of Bigfoot Burgers and his mother advanced on Professor Fauna, Ms. Goodwind began to report:
“Grace Goodwind, here. Reporting from . . . what’s the name of this dump?” she hissed at Sam, the producer. “Never mind, who cares . . . Reporting from some pit stop in Portland, Oregon.”
Meanwhile, Professor Fauna was trying to persuade the owner and his mother to not call the police.
“You see, I did not steal them. . . . They were stolen, yes. But not by me . . . Yes, they were in the backpack that I was carrying. But that evidence is just circumstantial! . . . Who stole them? Well . . . uh . . .” Professor Fauna looked at the Jersey Devil, sitting on top of the wooden Bigfoot’s head. The owner and his mother followed his gaze.
“WHAT IN BIGFOOT’S NAME IS THAT?” the mother shouted.
“Sandy! Get that on film!” Grace shrieked.
But just as Andy panned to Jersey, Elliot pushed the Bigfoot statue over. The owner bellowed, his mother screamed, Professor Fauna scooped up the backpack, Uchenna grabbed Jersey, and Elliot sprinted for the door.
They burst into the bright parking lot just as Mack pulled the TruckVanAc around.
“She’s all filled up. I should go in there and ‘tank’ them,” he added, grinning. “Don’t you think?”
“No time for jokes!” Uchenna exclaimed, throwing open the door and tossing Jersey inside. Everyone piled in after her, just as the restaurant door burst open and Grace Goodwind, Sam, and Andy appeared. Andy was trying to get his camera back on his shoulder. “Did you get that? Did you get it?” Grace was shrieking.
“I don’t think so,” Andy answered. “The kid pushed over the Bigfoot just before I could get it in focus!”
“What’s happening?” asked Mack.
“JUST GO!” Uchenna shouted.
Mack gunned the engine and roared out of the parking lot.
“What was that thing?” Sam asked, as they watched the TruckVanAc peel out onto Route 101.
“Looked like part truck, part van, part Cadillac,” Andy answered.
“No, I meant that blue creature with wings.”
“I know exactly what it is,” Grace whispered.
“You do? What?”
“That,” she said, her painted red lips bending into a smile, “is my prime-time story.”
As the TruckVanAc hauled up Route 101 toward the Washington State line, Mack turned to the kids.
“Did that cameraman say you knocked over my Bigfoot statue?”
“That’s your Bigfoot statue?”
“Well, I carved it.”
“It was pretty good.”
“Was?”
Elliot and Uchenna looked at each other and winced. Elliot said, “Remember how you took off the head of your Bigfoot costume when we first met?”
“Sure . . .”
“Well, have you ever heard of foreshadowing?”
Mack sighed.
