You know, in this short­est of sagas, Big­foot shows his tenac­ity. He’s a lit­tle like Lady Gaga, immune to the crit­i­cisms of peo­ple far, far less famous than he. I want to know who he’s tex­ting. I bet it’s the FBI team chas­ing after him.

Agent Pur­cell: Who keeps tex­ting you?

Agent Vonne: Big­foot. From your phone.

Agent Pur­cell: My—dammit! I haven’t left it any­where other than my holster!

Agent Vonne: I think … I think he picked your pocket.

Agent Pur­cell: Oh my god, no! HE’S LIKE A SHADOW DEMON!

Agent Vonne: Except we can catch those.

Agent Pur­cell: There is no per­fect sim­ile for Big­foot. What is he tex­ting? Maybe we can get a fix.

Agent Vonne: I would say he just went sky­div­ing. Pre­sum­ably he’s doing this over the coun­try­side, prob­a­bly just out­side of Bal­ti­more. I just sent off a mes­sage to the lab to send us a list of sky­div­ing com­pa­nies and air­ports near there. I think he might be expe­ri­enc­ing some minor elec­tro­cu­tion so he prob­a­bly had an alter­ca­tion with some power lines. His phone keeps send­ing mes­sages like:

« q;anb80a ow oww80ag ow088 myh oh mii­iby bumness »

« sowr lemen wires burn 3nn enunn »

«mi mus­sles kEp twich­ing! Char­lay hors! Char­lay HorsSSSSSSS »

Agent Pur­cell: Ask the lab if they can trace the texts. If he’s in shock, we might actu­ally have a chance to catch up with him.

Agent Vonne: Oh no, I for­got to bring a cam­era. You know, in case we just miss him.

Agent Pur­cell: What? What about the cam­era on your phone?

Agent Vonne: The lens is scratched. Wait, he just sent us a pic­ture mes­sage! I think … I think it’s his left eye­ball rolling up into his skull. And maybe some sparks. Maybe.

Agent Pur­cell: PROOF! I BELIEVE!