‘A Sasquatch Mystery’ begins here. Continue reading Part 2, Part 3, and Part 4.

* * *

Disco Stu yawned. It was just another day on the job.

He turned and looked at me. I frowned.

“What?” he asked, from the back seat of my car.

“You’re a slob,” I said, from the front. “And there’s a bucket of hot wings on your stomach!”

Disco Stu had climbed into my car for a nap, and had been sleeping there without my knowledge for an hour. In his defense, the bucket of hot wings was mine, along with the other rubbish on the back seat.

“Sorry about that, Mauso,” said Stu, brushing aside the trash. “I just needed to hide from Doyle for a while.”

“Why?” I asked.

“There’s a secret entrance to the basement of olilolo headquarters,” he explained. “Doyle uses it to smuggle in alcohol, and I use it to smuggle out…”

He stopped.

“Well, I use it too.” he finished simply. “Anyway, we happened to be using it at the same time this morning, and we ran into each other…”

“Say no more,” I replied. “Each man, caught red-handed by his oppressor.”

My cell phone rang.

“Mauso,” said the caller, “It’s Abacus here. I’ve just heard back from Phil.”

I lowered my voice, so that Stu would not hear our conversation. After all, I still suspected him to be a mole, planted by our rival touch football team – The Monsters.

“Who is Phil?” I asked.

“Phil is our mole inside The Monsters,” explained Abacus. “But they’re keeping him out of the loop. All he knows is that they have a mole on our team, and that the mole’s been in contact all day.”

“But Stu’s been sleeping in the back seat of my car,” I replied. “He wasn’t in contact with anybody.”

“Then he can’t be the mole. We need to start looking at the other team members.”

“Who does that leave?” I asked.

“Well, there are the girls on the team,” suggested Abacus.

I laughed. “A female mole? Girls can’t lie.”

“I’m not sure that’s accur-”

“Look Abacus,” I interjected. “I know girls. I know them like the back of my hand. They are flawless.”

“That’s a naive and idealis-”

“Enough!” I commanded. “Who else?”

“There’s Yongas,” suggested Abacus.

“I don’t know,” I mused, rubbing my chin in thought. “He doesn’t seem the type.”

“How do you mean?”

“He has beautiful thighs…”

“Really?”

“Yeah. They make a swooshing sound.”

“Are you sure that’s not just the pants?”

“No pants required,” I replied.

“But what does this have to do with his loyalty?”

“Oh, I just don’t think a man with beautiful thighs would betray us.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I know it doesn’t make sense, but that’s just how I feel.”

“I don’t think-”

“You’re right, it’s illogical. But think about it. Don’t argue, just tell me: do you think a man with beautiful thighs would be a traitor?”

There was a long pause, as Abacus considered this question. Eventually, he replied:

“… No.”

“Exactly. Plus, Yongas taught us how to do a Defensive Wacky Wallace Switch Move. I doubt he’d be the traitor, anyway.”

“… What?”

* * *

It had come down to this. The last member of the Olilolo Sasquatches. The mole.

My own brother.

“Lachlan!” I roared, storming into his room.

“What are you doing in my house?!?” he snapped.

“It’s not your house,” I reminded him. “And I live here.”

“What do you want?”

“Tell me what you’ve been doing today,” I said accusingly.

“Why should I tell you?”

“Because I’m your broth-”

“Why should I tell you,” he continued, “when I can show you.”

He turned to his computer and clicked on a link. A youtube video entitled “Frisbee Fun” began to load.

“So… you’ve been working on this all day?” I asked.

“Yep,” he smiled proudly.

“And you definitely haven’t been selling Sasquatch secrets to the opposition?”

“No,” he frowned angrily. “And get out of my house!”

* * *

“David, where have you been?” asked my coworker, Sara, when I returned to the office. “Justin needs your report immediately or he’ll fire you! Probably.”

I walked over to my desk, picked up the report, strolled into Justin’s office, and placed the report on his desk.

“Thanks Dave,” said Justin.

“No problems,” I replied.

Done.

“When did you have time to write that report?” demanded Sara, as I grabbed my coat.

“Wrote it last month,” I muttered. “The miracles of not procrastinating.”

“Wow. This is so unexpected.”

“Yeah, I decided to give time management a go.”

“And?”

“Not a fan, to be honest.”

“But it bought you enough spare time to solve a mystery, right?”

“Yeah, that didn’t really pan out either,” I replied. “There’s a mole on our team, and I still don’t know who it is.”

“Are you sure there’s even a mole? Because that seems kind of stupid.”

I shook my head. “You just don’t get sports.”

“Maybe you should be looking at your worst player,” she continued. “Because if I were sending someone undercover, I wouldn’t want to sacrifice a good player.”

But, I thought to myself, I’m the worst player!

“You just don’t get sports,” I repeated. “We’ll win. Mole or not, I swear to you here and now that we will win this game!”

* * *

The teams walked onto the field.

The Olilolo Sasquatches were led by their fearless captain, Aaron Doyle. He directed his team members to their positions, ready for battle.

The Monsters were led by a tall, athletic man with a fiercely competitive streak. We had played The Monsters many times before, and we recognised all of their players. But this was the man we truly hated.

“Mark up your players!” the captain spat at his players. The voice seemed hauntingly familiar. “Arise, Monsters! For this is our hour of glory! Tonight, we destroy The Sasquatches!”

The Monsters let out a communal roar.

Doyle now turned to us, and began:

“Give me an S!” he commanded.

“S!” we yelled.

“Give me an A!”

“A!”

“Give me a SQUATCH!”

“SQUATCH!”

“What does it spell?”

“SASSIE POWER!!!!”

Disco Stu let out an almighty Sasquatch Roar, drowning out any other sounds within a four mile radius, and killing two birds flying directly overhead.

The referee blew the whistle. It was on.

* * *

Every move we made, every tactic we tried, and every single strategy…

The Monsters had an answer. They responded to our attacks with a rock-solid defense. They cut through our lines with unimaginable fury. They dominated every moment of the game; every last second.

The half-time siren blared.

“Sassies!” yelled Doyle, waving at our team. We congregated around him, hands on knees, panting.

“The pizza slice attack isn’t working!” cried Stu.

“I know,” said Doyle. “It should have worked, but they were ready for it.”

(The ‘pizza slice attack’, as it is known in the touch football world, is so named because of the V-shape configuration of the attacking players.)

“It’s the mole!” I shouted, pointing my finger arbitrarily from one team member to the next. “It’s the fucking mole! We’d be winning if it weren’t for them!”

“And the Defensive Burger Block,” said Lachlan. “How did they get past it? We practiced it for weeks!”

“I know,” replied Doyle. “We were banking on that Burger Block.”

“It’s the mole!” I repeated. “It has to be.”

“Whatever the case, we’re a team,” announced Aaron. “And the only way we can win this game is by pulling together. We cannot stand around and blame each other.”

He stared pointedly in my direction.

“You’re right,” I replied, “There comes a time when every Sasquatch needs to take responsibility for his own game. That time is now.”

“Sassie Power!” cried Stu.

“SASSIE POWER!” yelled Yongas.

“SASSIE POWER!” we roared, in unison, as a team.

And we ran back onto the field for the second half.

* * *

We fought hard. We fought strong. We banded together as a team. We were a force of pure Sasquatch.

We lost.

The opposition knew all our moves. They tore Yongas to shreds when he attempted a Wacky Wallace Switch Move. Nothing could have prepared us.

“Damn it!” I yelled, kicking at the grass after the full-time siren. I looked around me to find nothing but broken men. Doyle lay face-down in the mud. Disco Stu sat, crying, into his arms. Yongas was admiring his thighs, albeit sadly.

“They knew our every last move!” I continued.

“Settle down, Mauso,” said Doyle, getting to his feet. “It’s not like we would have won anyway. They were just too good.”

“You don’t know that!” I snapped. “They looked pretty fucking average to me!”

“Yes,” said Doyle, “that’s my point. And we are well, well below that level of play.”

I contemplated this for a moment. The other members of the team had turned to face us.

“Just let it go,” said Yongas, patting me on the shoulder. “Let it go.”

As difficult as it was to let it go, I realised that the game was over, and nothing could change that fact. Maybe we’d never know who the mole truly was.

Perhaps, I considered, it would remain A Sasquatch Mystery forever.

* * *

As we walked towards our cars, nought but a broken man, I sighed.

“After all the work Abacus did obtaining information for us,” I told Stu. “And now… I feel as though I let him down.”

Stu turned to face me.

“Who?”

“You know, Abacus.”

“Who is Abacus?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “I thought you knew him.”

“Is this the guy who told you there was a mole on our team?”

“Yeah,” I said. And then the truth dawned on me. “I didn’t think I knew an Abacus! But he seemed to know me, so I just went along with it.”

“Mauso, you idiot!” cried Disco Stu. “What did you tell him?”

The full realisation of it all hit me. I was the mole.

The captain of the opposition approached us. “Did someone just say ‘Abacus’?”

And that’s when I realised why the captain’s voice was so hauntingly familiar.

He burst into laughter.

“You’re Mauso, I take it!” he crowed, between laughs. “Oh man!”

He slapped me on the back, and fell into a prolonged fit of arrogant laughter. Wiping a tear from his eye, he continued.

“So I call you this afternoon, just to fuck with your head. I tell you there’s a traitor on your team-” he paused again for laughter. “And then you interrogated everyone on your own team!”

I stood there, hanging my head in shame.

“And on top of that!” he jeered, “You even told me about all of your team’s moves. The pizza slice attack; the burger block; the switch move. Holy shit, dude. I didn’t even plan that. I can’t… believe…”

And he was away, again, with the laughter.

“You know Abacus isn’t even a real name!” he finished, clutching his sides as he departed, tears of mirth streaming down his cheeks.

I stood there, silently, as the realisation of it all sunk in.

Stu stared at me.

Aaron stared at me.

Yongas stared at me.

Lachlan stared at me.

Someone spoke.

“You are such… a fucking… idiot.”

I don’t know which one of them said it. I was studying my feet.

* * *

Unfortunately, the Olilolo Sasquatches decided to take the “blame someone” approach, rather than the whole “pulling together” concept, which had been so popular at half time.

That ‘someone’ was me.

After the game, we drove to Wacky Wallace’s Fast Food Restaurant for dinner. As I sat at the end of the table on my own, quietly munching on a hamburger, I got to thinking.

How did ‘Abacus’ get my information? How did he know my phone number, for example?

The only information provided to each team is the name of their opposition. And yet, he seemed to know an awful lot about me and olilolo.

There was only one explanation: someone inside the Sasquatches had given away my details. There was a traitor on the team.

“Who was it?!” I shouted, waving my french fries angrily at my team members. “One of you sold me out! Someone had to give Abacus that information! WHO WAS IT?”

Stu rolled his eyes. “Not this again.”

Lachlan shook his head, silently.

Yongas laughed at me.

Doyle shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“You fucking snake!” I spat. “Doyle! I knew it was you! From the very start!”

“In my defense,” he said, “All they wanted was your phone number.”

“What did he pay you?” I demanded. “Money? Chocolate? Booze?”

“Actually,” replied Doyle, “he gave us a year’s worth of coupons to Wacky Wallace’s. That meal you’re eating right now is free thanks to Abacus.”

I continued chewing my french fry, deep in thought.

“And besides,” continued Aaron, “we were going to lose anyway.”

“That’s a good point,” I nodded, taking a slurp from my Coca Cola. “After all, they defeated us 15 points to 1.”

“That is a pretty convincing win,” agreed Stu. Yongas nodded.

I continued to eat my burger. Everything was going to be okay.

The end.