The Legend of Shaqsquatch

Lumbering through the brush, a giant among insects, the beast looks for a meal. It knows no fear, for its strength is unmatched, and it knows no other creature to be stronger. All enemies have fallen, and all prey has served to further its blood lust. As strong as it is, within it a sadness swells, a certain humiliation which it tries to ignore, but it cannot. Like a lump it sits in its stomach, and all the blood and flesh cannot quench it, cannot make it subside. The beast has tried, and to no avail. . .

Not far from it, a scout troop hikes through the forest looking for level ground to set up camp. Noticing they're losing light, and, having spent the entire day camping and swimming in the river, they're exhausted and want to rest. They find a suitable place and it isn't long before they set up camp for the night, with the help of their scout leader. A fire is built, and the 6 scouts, along with their leader have a dinner of hot dogs and roasted marshmallows. After the meal jovial talking commences about the day, about the many things they had seen, but soon they bore of it and want to hear a scary story. It was a practice which their scout leader was quite famous for and often on trips like these it was expected, so with full bellies they gather closer around the camp fire as their scout leader finishes his coffee, easing himself. He looks around, biding the time, and finally begins his tale after many requests.

"The Legend of Shaqsquatch." He begins. "Many men have heard of Sasquatch, but I tell you boys, there's a far more ferocious beast out there, and he's much bigger too. His name is Shaqsquatch. . ."

Somewhere miles off the creature stops its search, its ears perk up. Its head turns towards a word it had not heard in many years - a word which shot across the forest like a bullet and hit it right between the eyes. That word. That haunting word "Shaq . . . squatch." Immediately it turns, its belly growing red hot once again: embarrassment, and it feels it must face it. . .

"I know about him because my Dad was the last one to see him. . . Right before he died!" He says, the shocking revelation bringing gasps to the mouths of a few scouts. They cup their mouths: a scout should never be afraid. "Yes, right before he died. . . That rotten beast, created in the depths of this very forest, on a cold and stormy night, when NBA Star Shaquille O'Neal gave his seed to the demon beast: Sasquatch." The leader continues, and tells the children all about the late 90's when a shooting guard and a center hooked up and became a dynamic duo for a team out of Los Angeles called the Lakers. The scouts, having been too young to be cognitive of a silly trivial thing like professional basketball know very little of Kobe Bryant, nor Shaquille O'Neal for that matter and sit dazed, waiting for the scary part. He details their three-peat, those three years when Kobe and Shaq got along well enough to bring the team to the finish line on top, and tells of their falling out, when they parted ways and the 'dynasty' was broken up.


The beast moves on, driven by the names. . . Shaq. . . Sasquatch. . .

"Soon Shaq would leave the team, and go to the Miami Heat, where after two years, they won the NBA Championship. They were pretty happy about it, most of all Shaq, who had received criticism from the sports world who had said that Shaq could never win it without Kobe. Shaq gloated, and even publicly dissed Kobe Bryant after winning the championship, in some NY bar. . . " The scout leader swallows hard, remembering the next part, which seems to still disgust him. "Asked Kobe how his ass taste... "

The beast draws closer, working its way through a forest it knows well, nimble, quick.

"But 3 years later Kobe won a championship of his own, and Shaq felt real embarassed. So much so that he went into hiding for a while, which is where he met Sasquatch and impregnated her: for there's no piece of pussy a basketball player wouldn't touch, I tell yah!"

The story was indeed true. After leaving the Lakers, Shaq went to the Heat and won a championship, and he did make a fool of himself in a night club, it went like this:

Love how the crowd in this N.Y. club supports Shaq after each line, and then he drops this lyric: That's like Patrick Ewing having more rings than me - and the crowd goes silent. . . Bad move Shaq, you do know Ewing played for the Knicks right? Right, well don't you think reminding New Yorkers about their lack of championship titles would be a bad move in the middle of New York no less? You're lucky you're so big. . .

Shaq truly did not know how his ass taste, but he did know the sweet taste of victory, for this video came out after he won the NBA Championship with Dwayne Wayne and the Miami Heat. . . His bragging however, would be soured many years later, for Kobe too won the NBA championship, just last year. His fourth ring and my money is on him getting another one this year.

The shame got to Shaq.

The realization that he was no longer the player he once was, got to Shaq. The "Man of Steel" had turned into the Man of Aluminum over the years, a fragile slow moving imbecile, chugging up and down the court like a train that was always starting up but never had enough time to really get going, had to stop, change directions and get to starting up again. It got to Shaq. It really did. He was on his way out, Kobe was still kickin'.

So he took off. Left the NBA, disappeared for awhile. He went up to Big Sur, where he spent time amongst other giants, namely the red woods which densely populated the area. The child in him lead himself to believe he were a desperado, or some western bounty hunter off chasing some snake in the grass gambler who ran off with all the town's money. He went everywhere really, and at times wrote rap songs about the red woods, or the forest, but none of the songs were as good as his early stuff, which admittedly wasn't very good at all in the first place. He wandered like this for nearly a week, until one cold stormy night in the woods Shaq sought shelter. Thunder cracked the sky, lighting ripped across the black night, a jagged wound. He found the dripping mouth of a cave, which he entered fearlessly, for in recent weeks he had felt big again. It is there in that cave that he met and shared a bed with Sasquatch. Despite popular belief, she is female, not male.

"Despite popular belief," The scout leader says, the features in his face lit by an orange glow. "Sasquatch is female, and as I said Shaq spent the night with her and spawned himself a child. . ." He leans closely towards the children. "Shaqsquatch!"

The beast could smell the flesh of men, it knew it well. It knew it was close. . . That name, "Shaqsquatch. . ." Far off a fire glowed amidst the darkness. There, there was its food, waiting for him:

"Shaqsquatch, a beast nearly eight feet tall." He stands on a stump to illustrate the massiveness of the beast. The fire lights up the scene, and his shadow dances in the light, nearly 9 feet tall. His arms are extended, fingers curled like claws. "As big as a house. . . With teeth as sharp as razor blades, stained pink from the blood of his many and numerous victims. He has huge feet like his father, big enough to squash your head like a measly. . . little. . . grape." He looks deep into the eyes of one scout, his thumb and forefinger coming together to show how easy it would be for Shaqsquatch. . .

"And I hear. . ." He looks around as if he is about to let them all in on a big secret. "He likes the flesh of children best. . ." He laughs maniacally, but the children aren't. They stare on, too afraid to listen, but even more afraid not to. Their over active imaginations perceive every rustle of brush, every snap of a twig to be no other than Shaqsquatch, coming to kill them all. They warn their leader of their probably danger, but he does not share their fear.

"Oh its just your imagination. . . There's no Shaqsquatch. Or is there? Should I call for him?"

The children beg no.

The beast smells the fire. It can almost feel it. It can hear voices. Only seconds now.

"Oh yes, to call him would be foolish." Ever hear of Troop 215?" The kids replied with the negative. "Well that's because they were all eaten, every last one of em. You don't have to believe me if you don't want to, but be careful tonight. When you're sleeping. Warm in your bags. Defenseless. That's what little Jimmy Marshall thought that fateful night: that he was safe, that he was ok. But he wasn't, for Shaqsquatch stalked him, tugged at his sleeping bag. Tug, tug, and then. . . ." The scout leader jumps down from the stump, pawing at a scout while letting out a vicious growl. Its so surprising they all scream. "He ATTACKED!" Realizing it all a ruse they fall into laughter, kicking feet and poking fun at any they deem to be 'really scared.'

"Ate him up Shaqsquatch, did. Ate him slow too, they say sometimes on a clear night, you can still hear the screams of poor little Jimmy Marshall, his specter doomed to an eternity of brutal, bloody Shaqsquatch attacks. They all pause to listen. The only sound is the wind tossing the tree tops, all is silent. . .

All is silent; the beast knows the time is be right.

The scout leader screams, and all the kids do too, but when they realize he's only fooling they laugh and so does he. But then it happens: the top of his skull is ripped clean off, as if it were a toupee. He screams again, this time for real, and all the scouts watch in horror as he drops to his knees, his shocked face trailing streams of blood, dropping to reveal Shaqsquatch. They had just watched their scout leader have his head opened like a can of Chef Boyardee, yet some how they can't think to run, they can't think. They sit and stare as Shaqsquatch scoops out his brains like nothing more than tapeoka pudding. Two kids break from their reverie, and think to run, but Shaqsquatch grabs both with his off hand and tosses them into a nearby tree. Crumbled, the boys lie at the bottom of the tree. The other scouts he scoops up like field mice, his mouth spread wide with the idea of swallowing them all in one go. He twists their heads off, one by one, popping them into his mouth like hard candies.


And after he eats all the children, one by one, he turns to the heavens and roars out a tale of his conquest for all those around to hear, a beastly growl that comes from the very depths of his putrid belly and leaves trails of something rotten in the air:

"Hey Kobe, tell me how my ass tastes."

And then he tromps off out through the forest, a man beast, a myth, a legend.

FURTHER RETARDATION:

Shaq has released four rap albums, the first of which Shaq Diesel went platinum.

His nicknames include: "The Diesel," "Shaq Fu," "The Big Aristotle," "The Big Daddy," "Superman," "The Big Agave," "The Big Cactus," "The Big Shaqtus," "The Big Galactus," "Wilt Chamberneezy," "The Big Baryshnikov," "The Real Deal," "Dr. Shaq," and "Shaqovic."

Has superman's emblem tattooed on his arm.

Is really just a big kid, with many big kid toys.

Like Seagal, Shaq is a reserve officer, for Miami.

Reality show monkey: Shaq vs. NBA Ballers, appeared on an episode of "Motorcycle Mania 2" with Jesse James, appeared on an episode of Fear Factor, Jackass, as well as Punk'd.

Kazaam.... need I say more?

Steel. . . for which he was nominated for a Razzie Award: Worst Actor

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Shaqsquatch concept created by: Wild Jesse.