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“The only candidate I'd allow to play my music would be Bigfoot, and unless we're talking about foraging for squirrels, he's notoriously apolitical.”
Greg Gutfeld“It's nice to see you. Aimee calls you Bigfoot, by the way." "Bigfoot?" "Yeah, you know, like a mythical creature that people say they've seen in the wild but no one knows for sure if it's real. That's you...”
Tracy Brogan, Love Me Sweet“It me birthday and nobody came...Bigfoot decide do something nice for self for big day and sneak in they house at night and pick out own present and blow out flickering candle of life in they brains. Make a wish, jerks.”
Graham Roumieu“After the third [San Miguel], I am likely to announce that all writing is fantasy anyway: that to set any event down in print is immediately to begin to lie about it, thank goodness; and that it's no less absurd and presumptuous to try on the skin of a bank teller than that of a Bigfoot or a dragon.”
Peter S. Beagle, The Fantasy Worlds of Peter Beagle“Heard a rumor you can’t cook,” he said.She didn’t look away from her reading. “You know rumors.They’re always true.”She had him there. According to some of the tabloids, he had fourteen love children, two with aliens and one with the sister of Bigfoot.”
Jamie Farrell, Matched“Find the Bad Guy means how, when you’re arguing with your spouse, both people are trying to win the argument. Who didn’t close the garage door? Who left the Bigfoot hair clump in the shower drain? What you have to realize, as a couple, is that there is no bad guy. You can’t win an argument when you’re married. Because if you win, your spouse loses, and resents losing, and then you lose, too, pretty much.”
Jeffrey Eugenides, Find the Bad Guy“Let’s get to our site,” Anne said. “I’m gonna need a nap before the hunt…and lunch.” “Do you wish you would’ve gotten that rental car this morning?” Jill whispered as Anne and Ella settled into their seats. Shay nodded. “Uh-huh.” Jill had seen many campgrounds, but her jaw sagged, and her foot slipped off the gas pedal twice. Sally rolled on slowly as she stared at the cadre of camouflaged vehicles and tents. One man sat atop his RV in a lawn chair, his binoculars trained on the woods beyond. “They really do take this seriously,” Shay whispered in awe. “This is like a militaristic zone.” Jill backed into a slip covered with a quilt of netting and camouflage tarps strung from the trees high overhead. “What is the reason for all of this?” she asked. “The campground is designed to blend in with nature to be more welcoming to the Bigfoot,” Anne explained. “That’s what they told us when we checked in.” “Oh, is that it? Well, let me just craft a banner that says, ‘We come in peace or bite-sized pieces,”’ Jill said with a sardonic laugh.”
Robin Alexander, The Trip