My encounter with the Big Man and other strange happenings

I am writing here to document my encounter with a beast so terrifying it would make a large bear-sized iguana with mole arms seem friendly.

Chapter 1
My name is Beaversnout, Ronald Beaversnout, but my friend John calls me "woof". This tale begins eight months back with a trip to the old drinking hole, 'The Uncert Inn' to sink a few with John (I was a big fan of the local bar and it's "Battleship Wednesday's"). I ordered the usual for me, a yard of ale, and for my friend a small bowl of water, then began my evenings nautical skirmishes.

After a tense matchup with last years winner of the season, Barry Steingart (I won, huzzah!) and a jam & ham sandwich to keep the rumbles at bay, I noticed a new guy setting up his pieces waiting for an opponent. With drink fueled gusto I walked to his table to size up this new blood, did he really have what it takes to best the new Admiral in this fresh era of Battleship Wednesdays? I think not.

"I didn't see you walk in?" I asked.

"That's the way I roll" he replied with stern expression.

The conversation was bleak and you could slice the tension with a wooden spoon.

I pondered sitting. "That's some fine pieces you got there, is that Destroyer class made from Ivory?" I asked as I sat down to challenge him.

"Nope, bone" he replied without looking up, still arranging his miniature fleet behind the iron curtain (plastic).

He was dressed in full hunting gear with an old Sherlock Holmes inspired hat. Most would think that this was odd, but this bar draws much stranger dwellers from the scrub.

"Bone?" I enquired as I set up my pieces.

"Yup, made it myself" he responded with a cold gaze towards me that was held for what felt like aeons.

Rather disappointingly I did an audible "gulp" that I swiftly covered with a swig of ale and a shuffle in my seat. I think John noticed as his ears pricked up, but this new arrival seemed to have been oblivious to my fears.

"I'm a hunter you see, I track down the most rare and elusive creatures. From the fromage flat fish of the Far Valley to the demon donkeys of Helmsgrove, but this piece is my prize battleship. It was made from a run in with The Big Man 6 weeks ago" He calmly stated. "Tough son of a bitch got me good, but I got a finger."

I enquired what this "Big Man" was and nearly got him thrown out for accusing him of trying to murder a basketball player.

He calmed tensions and said that "it was sort of like a Wookie that roams the woodland in these parts". I'd always been a fan of Star Wars and loved how it was set in the vibrant city of Tokyo, so I enthusiastically nodded in agreement.

The rest of the duel went on with bountiful conversation centered around Star Wars, Jabba the Hutt (ruler of the Hutts from 434 until his death in March 453), the armoured servants 2much-3D and C1-B1, down to it's humble beginnings as the first fortifications of the Edo clan.

We closed up the match. "Good game, Beaversnout. I'm off on another hunt tonight. Care to join me?".

Now fully ale'd and inspired by the heroics of the characters from Star Wars, I slammed my glass on the table, shattering it to pieces, shouting "ONWARDS DEAR HUNTER". On retelling this tale I can see that this was all a bit too much.

He wrapped his miniature ships in leather cloth and as he left he seemed to almost float out from under the table. I wondered if he was some form of phantom or shapeshifter, but he wasn't. He looked up at me with a grin as he emerged in a finely carved wooden wheelchair, adorned with hair and exotic leathers.

"Told you that's how I roll..." he smugly replied. "John can sit up here if he likes?" He said gesturing to his lap. So I picked up John and sat him there as they both wheeled out the door. "He has a dry nose, let me wet it for him." he said while licking his finger and moistening johns nose.

"By the way, the name is Patrick Adams. 'Patch' for short if you rather..."

The spooky conclusion continued below...

Chapter 2

After a grueling walk some 30 meters from the bar we came to a fully geared up Fiat Punto. It had blacked out windows, camouflage paintwork and it was covered from roof to wheel in green webbing.

"Uh oh, looks like your car has been attacked by a giant spider." I said, genuinely concerned with a slight panic.

"Thats not a car, boy and that's not spider web. Its an All Nature Attack Launcher, or the A.N.A.T.L. What you really wanna be worried about is what I saw yesterday on the trails before Blaine and Hawkins, my two dogs, had to go see the man upstairs." I was going to point out that his acronym had a more obvious alternative, but I was afraid that he'd turned his dogs into Battleships, and possibly my next. "We'll get the bastard tonight..." he said.

He popped the boot of the Fiat A.N.A.L, sorry I mean A.N.A.T.L, and produced two Ghillie suits, a large jug of homebrew and two gert big sticks. We dressed for the occasion and with a little help Patch's entire wheelchair was camouflaged.

"Sorry John" I said as I patted him on the head. "No camo for you".

"Here, he can have a chew. I made it from hide" Patch said as he threw a chew on the ground. John jumped at it nibbling away ferociously.

With sticks in hand we journeyed into the dense overgrowth.

Patch had a knack for this, he was truly in his element. He rolled past tree's sniffing the bark, down hills looking for tracks and above all, he was enjoying every moment of it.

"See that?" he pointed at a small patch of blood beside a tree. "That's from him, the Big Man. He's here somewhere... watching us. The forest, it's alive..." Patch whispered. "Remember, if it bleeds, we can kill it. Then turn it into beautiful Battleships".

I grabbed him by the wheels as he swigged at some homebrew and looked him directly in his eyes, or near his eyes (was hard to tell in his homemade wooden Ghillie-chair).

"Yesterday, what did you see? No more games!" I yelled as I shook him.

"I don't know what it was, it changed colours, like the chameleon. It uses the jungle." He explained between swigs of brew.

"Are you saying that Blaine and Hawkins were killed by a #ing lizard?" I yelled in panic.

"No" he replied "They went to my neighbors house in my apartment complex." as he gulped back the brown stuff.

Suddenly a horrifying shriek rang out across the dense forest, it's pitch almost unearthly.

"Stop squealing like a little sissy Beaversnout..." Patch said in a tone of distress. "What is it?"

"There's something moving in the overgrowth back there!... give me some of your courage" I said as I gestured towards his homebrew, picked it up and took an extremely large swig. Things started to get hazy at this point onwards but I can recall it with pinpoint inaccuracy, which will have to do.

Patch, more steamed than a dumpling, as was I, rolled forward as fast as he could with stick raised high and a small hunting knife brandished in his other hand. "Come on you bastard! I'm going to turn you into a fleet of frigates!"

In the uproar I ran forwards too in assistance of my new friend, and so did John, the three of us making more noise than a pigeon, but less noise than a jumbo jet. We ran straight into the thicket and started blindly whacking everything in a 3 ft radius. We had to get the bastard, not sure why but when you're this drunk anything seems like a good idea.

"AAARRGH"

"I got 'im Patch, I got the big man!" I called out enthusiastically. Patch swung round and caught me with his beating stick, then realised the fight was over and he didn't need to swing anymore. For good measure he hit me again.

"we got him!!! DRINK!" yelled Patch with maniacal laughter and tears streaming down his mutton chops.

We celebrated with a final last cheers of homebrew but it was already too much. Within 10 minutes we were out cold, nesting at the belly of the beast.

We awoke to police arresting us, accusing us of hitting a park ranger multiple times with wooden bludgeoning weapons. As we sat in the back of the police vehicles after a long, cuffed trek, we discussed the evenings events and how we were certain we were being set up. They had The Big Man now...

After a long silence, John spoke up.

"Thanks for letting me ride on your wheelchair with you Patch, and for the biscuits." He murmured while adjusting his cuffed hands.

"No worries John, glad you had fun".

We were out the next day as the Park Ranger dropped the charges, Patch however was locked away for murder. Apparently he was charged with murdering a basketball player and turning his thumb into a Battleship. John headed home to his wife and kids and I headed back to the next Battleship wednesday, slightly more cautious this time however...

Fantastic! Great imagery, flow, characters, style, everything....

originally posted by: olaru12
Fantastic! Great imagery, flow, characters, style, everything....

Thanks for reading! I felt like being silly and writing something mad seemed like a good outlet. It's a bit long and rambling, but I had fun piecing it together for an hour!

a reply to: constant_thought

Execellent s/f