AN: More stupid humor! Pure crack, tbh. The next chapter of Undefined is in the works, but it's my birthday and I wanted to celebrate by cleaning up and posting something that I started a long time ago. So there.

Janice was the fastest beta ever. She rocks!

"Ru – oo – fus," Bobby drawled, "Why are we here?" He was lying on his back in a clearing somewhere in the woods of New Hampshire. The fire was burning but they hadn't set up their tent yet.

"We talkin' met – metaphysics or logistics?" Rufus asked back, more clearly than Bobby would have expected. He was lying on his back too, his head near Bobby's but his legs angled away.

"Talkin' this hunt," Bobby answered. "You know even if the sightin's real, Bigfoots...Bigfeet?...don't hurt nobody. And if there is one, the chances of findin' it are next to zero."

It was all true. Members of the Bigfoot family, like Sasquatches and Yetis, were not only not dangerous to humans, but they sometimes helped people who were lost or injured. And though extraordinarily shy, they sometimes left gifts for humans who were respectful of their habitats. Best of all, they preyed on other, less benign cryptids. (Rufus even claimed he'd once seen a nuk-luk with an adlet hanging out of its mouth but half the shit he said was total bull.) And they were almost never found unless they wanted to be, even by the most experienced Hunters or woodsmen.

Rufus muttered something that Bobby didn't catch, but he had a feeling he knew the answer to his own question. Every mid- to late April, Rufus grew even more taciturn and restless than usual, drank more, and acted more reckless on hunts.

"If you knew the hunt was a bust, why did you come along then, Einshtein?" Rufus asked.

It was Bobby's turn to mutter a non-answer. He came because he worried about the cranky old bastard. Worried that if he went alone, he'd do something he couldn't come back from. Because, though he'd rather wax his entire body than admit it aloud, Bobby considered Rufus his friend. He shook his head at himself and watched the stars do a lazy swirl. It would be getting really cold soon, and they really should put up the tent soon, but at the moment he wasn't feeling the cold. In fact, he felt great.

Bobby decided to change the subject. "You're smart, but you are also really dumb."

"Hey!" Rufus' voice came from very close to Bobby's ear, but he didn't bother to turn his head to look. Turning his head just made things swirl around more anyway. Besides, he didn't want to smell the guy's breath. Rufus had been noshing on his horrible double-salt black licorice candies, which Bobby was convinced had been invented in Hell itself. Rufus called them 'druppies.' Bobby called them 'pieces of shit.'

"Why'd you say 'm dumb?" Rufus demanded. It took Bobby a moment to remember. He blinked at the stars again.

Bobby scrunched up his face, trying to get away from the smell of anise and body odor. "Because you took brownies from those ri-ri-ridiculous hippies! They were like the hippiest hippies ever to hippy. What were you thinking? Didn't you figure they'd have somethin' extra in there?" It was true. The generous campers in question had ticked every single hippy stereotype.

Rufus flopped onto his back. Probably harder than he'd intended to, given the oof he let out. "Mebbe," he admitted. "But this ain't really a hunt –"

"– which is what I told you all along –"

"– and Sasquatches don't actually hurt people, even if that's what that freaked out ranger saw –"

"– I told you that too –"

"– and I hate April and I thought a little Mary Jane might make me hate it a little less."

Bobby sighed. He hooked the last two brownies off the first plate, tossed one onto Rufus' chest, and took a bite of the other. "'Sit working?" he asked with his mouth full.

"Oh, yeah." Rufus drew out the word oh. He burped and giggled. Giggled. "So...why'd you eat some after you saw I was already flyin'?"

That was a very good question.

"I et the brownies cuz it looked like you were havin' fun, moron. So I figured I could moron too. I mean have fun too. And I came along because I didn't want to get a call that you were missing and have to find your ass." Bobby snickered.

"That happened once," Rufus protested. "And I wasn't losht. I was poisoned!"

"Po-tay-to, po-tah-to," Bobby sang. "I had to save your ass!"

"My fine, fine ass," Rufus sang back. He wasn't half bad.

Something blocked the stars above Bobby and he blinked hard to see what it was. He looked up. And up. And saw a face that most closely resembled Chewbacca from that new movie Rufus had dragged him to, though the fur was much shorter and nearly black. Actually, the entire long, humanoid body was covered in the same. It must have stood close to eight and a half feet, and from Bobby's position flat on his back, it looked twenty feet tall. The blue eyes were intelligent and, if he wasn't mistaken, a little bit judgey. Hands the size of dinner plates (and Kenny Rogers at a disco, the size of those claws!) rested on furry hips. If the Sasquatch were so inclined, it could rip both of the rather impaired Hunters to pieces.

Bobby wasn't one to panic, but his mind went completely blank. Unable to think of a single other thing to do, he sat up and held out the second, still full plate. "Uh, wanna brownie?"

Half an hour later

"Anybody want some salt and vinegar chips?" asked Rufus, the words sloppy.

"Nah, I'm good," answered Bobby lazily.

"Uh. Uh-uh-ooh," said Sasquatch.

"Ooga wants some," Bobby said. It wasn't actually the creature's name, but it was as close as the humans could get. A mostly full bag of chips landed on Bobby's stomach, and he passed them to the Sasquatch, who was now lying down as well, his head forming the third point in a triangle. He'd laid down at some point after consuming the entire last plate full of brownies and Bobby found it surprisingly easy to interpret most of what he said.

Bobby craned his neck enough to see that their companion was still wearing his new hat. After the first (or maybe second) bag of chips was empty, Ooga had pulled the bag onto his head like a stocking cap. Rufus had declared that he could make a better hat than that and used a newspaper to fold a serviceable if slightly lopsided captain's hat. The Sasquatch loved it.

"Hat looks good," Bobby reported. Rufus answered with a snore. Bobby yawned hugely. They really, really needed to put the tent up. He'd get on that in just a few minutes…

WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER

(ACTUALLY SINGER * TURNER)

Bobby jolted awake, stiff and sore. He looked around the clearing blearily. He was under a sleeping bag he didn't remember getting out, but there was bare ground beneath him. Rufus was building up the fire, which looked like it had been expertly banked to stay burning low and safely overnight. Bobby opened his mouth and had a sudden, vague memory of...holy Daisy Duke on a Harley...spooning with his fellow Hunter. Just that fast, the highlights of the whole evening popped into his head.

If he'd had any doubts, there was a newspaper hat next to the sleeping bag.

(Had he really gotten high with Rufus and a Sasquatch named Ooga? Then cuddled with his hunting partner?)

"Uh, did we cud – ?"

"Didn't happen," Rufus snapped. He kicked some leaves over a very large footprint.

"But the brown –"

"Don't know what you're talking about." Rufus threw the crumb-covered paper plates into the fire.

"Ooga –"

"I am going to get the fire high enough to heat some coffee, and if you don't shut your stupid mouth, I'm dumpin' your coffee over your head. Got it?"

Bobby realized he had no more interest in discussing the events of the night before than Rufus did. He started to zip up the sleeping bag that neither he nor Rufus had gotten out. If they hadn't had it, and the fire had gone out, they would have been in big trouble, which was something Bobby really didn't want to think about.

By mutual, unspoken agreement, Bobby and Rufus didn't talk about the "Hunt" or anything else that had happened ever again. In fact, Bobby never told anyone about it. But when they broke camp and Bobby did one last walk-through to make sure the fire was truly out and they hadn't left any litter behind, he tucked the newspaper hat under the edge of a small rock. It was the least he could do.

AN: Double-salt licorice is a devilish invention. The Dutch have some things very right (i.e. chocolate sprinkles on toast for breakfast), but some of their "candy" is truly an abomination. Sorry, ancestors.