(#5 in a series, unless I've lost count)
In search of the wily Mountain Squid.
It is always difficult for me, a resident of Wyoming, to get
fresh prairie squid. Problem is, you see, this is the Rockies,
not the prairies.
So I was bemoaning my fate, complaining about having to get by
with week-old P-Squid, when a friend of a friend of a total
stranger told me the Legend of the Mountain Squid.
It seems that in the old days, when the Mormons ran free across
the hills and valleys of Western America before it WAS Western
America, they told stories of a huge amorphous blob some 200
feet high and covered in hair. According to some, it made
noises like "Fweep! Fwop! Fweep! Fwop!" and it smelled so bad
that not even a dead man would go near it.
I immediately realized that this could only mean the existence
of a hitherto unknown species of squid, and began researching
the stories. Apparently, the M-Squid had grown in the telling.
The first stories, from ancient Indian legend, claim it to be
"only" ten feet from stem to stern. Most amazingly, the legend
is very specific on one point: the Mountain Squid has no beak.
If this were true, I surmised wildly, it could cut down the
number of small, albeit embarrassing injuries suffered by
would-be prairie squid fuckers. I researched on, frequently
getting thrown out of the library at the end of the day.
I followed up numerous false trails (much like the Mormons
themselves). Some stories were obvious fabrications, while
others were about entirely different creatures, such as ghouls,
cowboys, and Jackalopes. In fact, I was at one point convinced
that the Jackalope had mated with Mountain Squid to create the
first cowboys, but I could find no corroborating evidence.
I eventually narrowed down the evidence to two likely sources.
The first, Jack Smith, was the leader of one of the Mormon
caravans:
"We came upon what must be the Rocky Mountains today", his
journal entry reads. "Gosh! They sure are high! I hope we make
it through before winter, as the children are beginning to
freeze up, and it'll be Heck to get 'em thawed out. If only
we'd brought blankets!"
The next entry is a week later: "We sure are lucky we found
them squashy things! God may not look kindly on what we had to
do to keep warm, but all of us agreed we never felt better in
our life. Especially Clem, who we had to tie to the wagons to
make him come on. I don't know if we'll EVER get Susan cleaned
off."
This can only be a veiled reference to the M-Squid. The other
reference comes from much later: In 1898, a hunter named Robert
Brown told his wife:
"It was thirty feet tall, honey! And throbbing all over, and I
swear you could see through it! You never in your born days
experienced the like! It did things to me, and I don't care who
knows it!"
These two reports convinced me that up in the uncharted
territory of the Rocky Mountains, the Mountain Squid roams
free. I put together an expedition, consisting of myself and a
couple of my roommates' friends, and we set off.
MOUNTAIN SQUID HUNT, DAY ONE
We set out on foot today. After about a half hour, one of the
native bearers pointed out that the mountains are more
accessible if we drive up to them first. This was adopted as a
good plan and we all went back home.
DAY TWO
We drove down to the mountains today, parked the car, and THEN
set out on foot. We hiked all day but saw no trace of squid
tracks. We were not discouraged and settled down to a meal of
nuts and grubs.
DAY THREE
We're very excited! George has found a pile of goo that he
swears looks just like squid droppings! Also, Leon thought he
saw something move! We press on.
DAY FOUR
Nothing. More nuts and grubs.
DAY FIVE
Supply of nuts low. Plenty of grubs. Leon thinks he saw Jesus.
DAY SIX
No more nuts. Down to our last grubs.
DAY SEVEN
Out of grubs. Started on pizza. Morale very low.
DAY EIGHT
We saw it! All of us, not just Leon. We'd stopped to catch our
breath and let George tie his shoe, when a huge shape loomed
over us. It must have been fifty feet high, like a massive
Jell-O Jiggler (tm). There were tentacles, phallic protrusions,
and tongues EVERYWHERE, but no beak. We tried not to move, but
the smell was such that George had one of his attacks, and it
squished off. We followed when we could, but it left almost no
trail.
DAYS NINE-ONE HUNDRED THIRTY
No more sign of the Mountain Squid. Returned to car, which had
been ticketed. Drove home, sad.
DAY ONE HUNDRE THIRTY ONE
Got boozed up.
Although my expedition was, technically, unsuccessful, we did
establish the positive existence to the Mountain Squid. Based
on my one look, I would say that they are much wilder and
"ruder" than their Prairie brethren. Anyone approaching the
Mountain Squid would be warned to bring a long rope, and
probably a few Stick-Ups (tm).
-Monty
--
"They never come up into the hills, these guys!"
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Subject: Re: Stalking the Wily Mountain Squid
From: i.stang@metronet.com (Rev. Ivan Stang)
BLESS Dr. Monty for that research. This could save many lives. We will
issue warnings to all known SubGenius squid enthusiasts in the Rocky
Mountains states to take this under advisement.
You KNOW what they're gonna do, though.
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