Not that I own a gun, but in the one-in-a-billion chance that I happen to have a gun placed in my hands the same moment I see bigfoot, I would
definately shoot it. The only possible technicality is if it does belong to the genus homo, it could be considered homocide. I don't think anybody
could seriously send you to jail for proving bigfoot exists though.
1. Make sure it doesn't look like a guy in a suit
2. Yell to give it warning you are going to shoot, last chance for the person to identify themselves as human. Getting charged with manslaughter
isn't fun.
3. If it still acts non-human, take that sucker down.
Then again, last time I offered my opinion on this subject, I got a short story written about me. Here it is, just for laughs:
[dream sequence diddle-diddle-doots]
The Yarcofinator
A Short Feature by Majic®
Deep in the forest primaeval, the forest primaeval of old, of old, Bigfoot sits unconscious, tied to a folding chair. Yarcofin gently pistol whips him
awake...
Yarcofin: Sorry I have to do this, but it's for the good of science.
Bigfoot: (slips hand out of rope bindings and rubs back of neck painfully) Wha? What? What the hell are you talking about?
Yarcofin: I can't allow you to escape.
Bigfoot: Hey, I'm not going anywhere, not after the way you coldcocked me like that. Geez, what was that, a baseball bat?
Yarcofin: Axe handle. Look, it's nothing personal, you just happen to be the first Bigfoot I've ever captured, and there's simply no way I'm going
to let you go. Sorry. Not gonna happen, amigo. Dream on. Say your prayers. Prepare to join the choir invisible. Ticket punched. Chit yanked. Game
canceled. Engagement disengaged. Bets off. Tent rolled. Stakes pulled. Visa revoked.
Yarcofin: (leans forward, hands on hips) BIGFOOT, I PWN U!
Bigfoot: Um, dude, I'm like totally not Bigfoot. I thought you would have figured that out already.
Yarcofin: Yeah, right. The old “you've got the wrong Bigfoot routine”. Nuh-uh. Fool me twice, shame on me.
Bigfoot: (turns to point finger at own back) Look, see the zipper? It's not even brown, it's silver (faces Yarcofin, sighs). Look, friend, I need to
get this suit back by six o'clock or I'm out fifty bucks on the deposit. Can't we just forget this ever happened, already?
Yarcofin: I'm sorry, but not this time (lifts the pistol to Bigfoot's synthetic, ape-like face and cocks it with a loud, metallic double-click).
There's no other way.
Yarcofin: Hasta la vista, Biggie. (pulls trigger)
...
Sounds good to me. You show that overgrown walking carpet who's boss, holmes.