Bigfoot Bob had feet so long
his boots were sold by weight.
He said his toe could bar a bridge
and stop a train of freight.
At least, that’s how he told the tale
when strangers stopped for bread.
He’d never stopped a train with toes,
whatever Bob had said.
One morning, at the baker’s door,
he held a tuft of hair.
“I wrestled Sasquatch Tuesday night—
a hairy beast out there.”
A little girl stepped back a pace.
Bob gave a mighty grin.
“Come see my wrestling show tonight.
One coin will get you in.”
The baker eyed Bob’s boots and said,
“I’d hang them by my bread.”
“They’re not for sale,” said Bigfoot Bob.
“I’ll need them yet,” he said.
His nephew Pip stood by the wall
and wished the girl would stay.
“It’s just a story,” Pip began.
Bob boomed the words away.
“We fought from dusk till nearly dawn,
all up and down the creek.
I pinned him with my smallest toe.
He couldn’t rise or speak.”
Nell came out with her sewing bag
and looked at Bob’s great prize.
She held the hair against the light
and narrowed both her eyes.
“That wool came off my canvas suit.
You tore it at the knee.
Four coins will pay the mending bill.
Bring them tonight to me.”
“A suit?” cried Bob. “You mean a skin.
The beast was dressed to dance.
I taught him steps so intricate
he split his furry pants.”
Nell pointed out the careful seam
that ran below his thumb.
Bob coughed and tucked the wool away.
The girl asked, “Will he come?”
“Tonight,” Bob said. “At eight o’clock.
I promise he’ll appear.”
Pip stared at him. The canvas suit
was hanging very near.
Nell gave the suit to Pip to bring
back home before the show.
“The patch needs drying on the line.
Don’t wear it. Off you go.”
Pip put the suit across his arm.
Its head was broad and round.
He wanted Bob to tell the truth,
not frighten half the town.
That night the people paid their coins
and filled the rented hall.
Bob took the stage beneath the lamp
his shadow on the wall.
They asked him how his smallest toe
had pinned a giant beast.
He kicked his boots behind the stage.
“These feet are fierce, at least.”
A curtain stirred. The boy was there,
and wanted them to know.
Pip took the suit behind the stage,
though Nell had told him no.
He’d climbed inside the canvas coat
and pulled its head down tight.
He’d found Bob’s two enormous boots
to make the monster right.
Then out he stepped. The people gasped.
Bob nearly dropped his hat.
Pip waved one heavy furry arm
and caught it on a slat.
The coat pulled loose. He tripped and fell;
the head rolled to the floor.
Two small feet slid from Bob’s big boots.
The crowd began to roar.
The little girl was laughing now.
Nell reached to help him stand.
“I asked you just to bring it home.”
He took her offered hand.
“You said the beast would come tonight.
I knew that wasn’t so.
I thought they’d see it was a suit
when I came in your show.”
Nell brushed the dust from Pip’s small knees
and turned toward Bob instead.
“You promised Sasquatch in this hall.
And here’s a boy,” she said.
She took the costume from the floor
and folded up its head.
Pip held it steady in his arms.
“I’ll take it home,” he said.
The front row asked for coins returned.
Bob counted out the pay.
He paid each person in the hall.
They chose to watch and stay.
Nell showed her four-coin mending bill.
His purse was bare and poor.
He looked at Pip, then at his boots.
“These ought to fetch you four.”
The baker bought the boots from him
to hang above his door.
He gave Bob four bright copper coins.
Nell counted all the four.
“The coat is paid,” she said to Bob.
“The next tear costs you more.”
She held the lamp while Pip wrapped up
the coat beside the door.
Bob stood in socks upon the stage.
“Now here’s a made-up show.”
But Pip had wrapped the canvas suit.
“I promised Nell I’d go.”
“Will you beat time?” his uncle asked.
Pip held the costume tight.
“I’m walking home with Nell and May.”
He stepped into the night.
May was the girl he’d seen before,
who’d feared its hairy eye.
Nell held the head up for her hands.
May laughed and said, “I’ll try.”
Bob sang about a hungry beast
who tumbled in the stew.
He sang it out on humming wings
and whistled till it flew.
Outside, Bob left a stocking print
beside Pip’s smaller pair.
Above the bread, two empty boots
rocked slowly in the air.
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