Hula Done It - By Maddy Hunter Page 0,42

proving to be real neatnicks. The evolutionary process at work.

"Another false alarm," Nana complained as she ambled our way with Jonathan in tow. She stopped in front of us and handed me her Magic Marker. "You wanna sign Jonathan's cast? He's still got some space open."

"Have a speedy recovery," I wrote, signing my name. I checked out what other people had written. "This cast is full of germs. Avoid contact with your eyes and mouth after touching it. Margi."

"I broke my arm once, too, and I bet it was a lot worse then yours. Bernice."

"There's something about you that reminds me of my Sam," penned Nana.

"Get lost!" read another message in huge block letters. The sentiment had no name attached, but instinct told me the author was probably dear old Jen.

"EEEKKKKK!!!" A scream rang through the trees. "IT'S BIGFOOT!"

Pandemonium broke out as a hideously fat beast swathed in leaves bounded down the hill.

"EEHHHH!" shrieked the newlywed in the Aloha Princess T-shirt as she pelted through the trees away from it.

"Somebody shoot it!" her husband yelled as he pelted after her.

Nana whipped out her camera and squeezed off a quick shot, pondering afterward, "You don't s'pose he meant with a gun, do you?"

"Holy crap!" cried Jonathan. "That thing could be a carnivore!" At which point he took off down the trail like a streak of chain lightning.

"Bigfoot is a phenomenon indigenous to the Pacific Northwest," Tilly expounded as the beast thrashed through a stand of saplings. "I'm rather perplexed why it's making an appearance in the South Pacific."

"Maybe it's lost," said Nana.

Tilly pointed to it with her walking stick. "Naturally, the legend of Bigfoot has expanded over the decades. In Canada it's known as Sasquatch. The Lakota Indians call it Chiye-tanka. The Sioux refer to it as Big Man."

The ground shook as our fellow kayakers charged past us like stampeding wildebeest. Basil. Percy. The guy in the muscle shirt. Over rocks, around trees. Through ferns, moss, and mud. Screaming. Shrieking. Yelling.

"But I'm not sure if the Hawaiians have a comparative humanoid ape in their mythology."

The beast flailed its arms, bounced off a tree, then staggered dizzily. "It sure is fat," observed Nana. "Probably hard to find nutritious food in Dumpsters these days."

Tilly waggled her walking stick at it. "The cranium is extraordinarily large. It must boast a massive brain to have a head that big, which means its intelligence level could be well above that of a typical anthropoid ape. The leaves have me puzzled, though. Bigfoot is reputed to be a furry creature -- a great, solitary, gangly beast who's been walking the earth for six thousand years. Why is this creature's epidermal layer covered with mulch instead of fur? I hope it doesn't have jungle rot."

"Them other ones might be solitary," Nana announced, nodding toward the hill. "But this one's not. He's got relatives."

Three more fat, leaf-covered creatures came tumbling down the slope behind him.

"Looks like they all been eatin' outta the same Dumpster," Nana observed.

"A nuclear family," marveled Tilly. "Astounding. I wonder if they're grouped into matriarchal or patriarchal units." She heaved herself to her feet. "Perhaps I'll ask."

"ARE YOU CRAZY?" I seized her arm. "You can't go near that thing! Look at it! It's vicious. It might be rabid. If you get anywhere near it, it might --"

It stumbled into a pothole and fell flat on its face with a painful WOOF.

"Ouch." Nana winced. "That had to hurt."

"I'll be fine," Tilly assured me, removing my hand from her arm. "I faced down the Abominable Snowman near the summit of Mount Everest. This creature is small potatoes in comparison."

"Yeah, but he brought along the whole family!" I paused stupidly as her words caught up to my brain. "You've seen the Abominable Snowman?"

"Actually, it turned out to be an unnaturally tall Sherpa guide who'd lost his way in a storm, but if you ever visit Nepal, you'll discover that I've become something of an urban legend."

The creature dragged itself clumsily to its feet and in a fit of wildness and rage, pounded its way straight for us.

"Um, I think we better move," I said, grabbing Nana, but Tilly strode brusquely to intercept him.

"You there," she yelled, utterly fearless as the thing stopped, growled curiously, then catapulted toward her as if she were the Big Mac he'd ordered for lunch. Faster. Closer. Faster. Closer. Oh, my God! He wasn't going to stop!

THWACK! She clubbed him in the midsection with one swing of her walking stick. BOOM! He went down like