Being dumb wasn’t a capital crime. Wasn’t a crime at all, in fact. Merely a handicap.
Bigfoot. She got the gist. A mythic ape-man, hairy, seven feet tall, from the Northwest woods.
There was a dog on the back seat. Like a German Shepherd, but bigger. About the size of a pony. Maybe a freak mutation. It had teeth the size of rifle ammunition.
“Who or what is Bigfoot?” She said, “He’s a giant ape-man who lives in the woods. On the slopes in the Northwest. About seven feet tall and covered in hair. Eats bears and cattle. One rancher lost a thousand head, over the years.” “Where was this?” “Nowhere,” the secretary said. “It’s imaginary. Like a fairytale.”