S – Sasquatch

Out of all the cryptozoological creatures that certainly exist, my favourite is the chupacabra.  Not only does it have a funny name, but it is only a few feet tall and eats goats.  This means that the chupacabra is unlikely to eat me unless I start walking on all fours and learn how to eat tin cans.  So you can imagine my disappointment when I was forced to become a Sasquatch.

I got a summer job at Mental Mike’s World Of The Weird, a popular tourist attraction down in Bognor Regis (of course you’ve never heard of it; it’s in Bognor Regis).  The place was a little bit like Ripley’s Believe It Or Not, in that it was a museum to unbelievable exhibits.  Some were so unbelievable to the point that they were clearly fabricated, such as a scaled down model of a man who could touch the moon.  Needless to say, the attraction bought in literally tens of fascinated tourists.
 
My job, as resident Sasquatch, was to stand still in a display cabinet while wearing a giant furry suit.  My spot was situated between the Octobaby and a cute little exhibit called “The World’s Most Magical Cardboard”.  Needlessly to say, this was a prestigious patch that all the other employees envied.  The Human Fire Extinguisher wanted my job so badly, mainly because he was required to give a demonstration every 20 minutes, whereas I could chill out in my display case and catch a few Z’s.  Sometimes children would comment that the Sasquatch seemed to be snoring, but Mental Mike would reassure them that it was just the Sasquatch corpse releasing gas it begins to decay.

Me before coffee.  HAR DEE HAR HAR!

That envy would soon turn into malicious intent.  Some of the staff put itching powder in the suit, but my fleas soon ate it all and I was unaffected.  Then they tried putting Mexican fire ants in there, but the ants saw me as a suitable place to build their colony and didn’t bite, taking up a permanent residence behind my right ear.  It seemed that their efforts were futile.

That is, until one fateful, dreary Monday morning, when I arrived at work 3 minutes early.  I found my suit had been moved onto a different hook than where I usually hang it, which was rather suspicious.  I checked the suit over and couldn’t see any signs that it had been tampered with. No biting insects, no mysterious powders, no mousetraps near the nipples, nothing.  Feeling confident that I would be safe, I put on the suit and assumed my place in the exhibit.

After a few minutes, I began to feel a slightly uncomfortable sensation near my genitals.  My urethra felt like someone was trying to remove a piece of chicken from it with a hot skewer.  The feeling spread to the surrounding areas of my crotch.  My loins were burning, and not in a good way!

I leaped out of the display case, sending shards of tempered glass into the eyes of several young spectators, and began stripping off my suit.  I had to release this boiling pressure immediately.  Unfortunately, Monday is my Commando Day, meaning that I was currently without underwear.  I exposed myself to the delight of the whole museum, and realised that my groin was smothered in red chillis.  I tried brushing it off, but the chillis had left a stinging residue that I couldn’t remove by hand.  In the end I was forced to dunk my junk in the three-headed frog tank. I teabagged a toad as I turned the water red and the air blue.  Needless to say, that was my last day of employment at this particular museum.

I still live on at Mental Mike’s World Of The Weird though.  Before I was fired, I donated something to the museum that I am very proud of.  I live on in the form of an exhibit for the world’s greenest bogey.  I hear Guinness World Records wants to interview me about it.  Watch this space.