Wednesday, January 31, 2007


By Pam Orvlosky

Something was wrong, the Yeti thought. Jessica had hardly touched her dinner. And there was that smell: a musty, slightly putrid aroma that had clung to her ever since she returned from a long hike in the forest. Then the Yeti noticed a long, scraggly black hair stuck to her sweater, and suddenly everything made sense. Terrible, heartbreaking sense.

“I thought things were over between you and the Sasquatch,” the Yeti said, trying to maintain his composure, “but clearly they are not.”

Jessica began to sob. She begged the Yeti's forgiveness. And she waited for him to tear off one of her arms, as he was wont to do in fits of jealous rage.

Instead, the Yeti finished his hamburger in silence, his stare as cold and distant as the mighty Himalayas. And that hurt Jessica more than any arm-tearing ever could.

(This is the first work of fiction by renown cryptozoologist Pam Orvlosky.)


Anonymous said...

Uh ... I'm calling bullshit on this one. Yetis don't eat casseroles.

Pam Orvlovsky, PhD said...

The Yeti, in his native habitat, subsists primarily on a diet of yaks, snow leopards and Sherpas. This is, however, a remarkably adaptable creature, who has been known to consume a variety of American staple meals and, regrettably, an even greater array of beer and liquor.