would be bursting with ideas when he returned, that the words would just pour from his ape-like fingers and onto the page, or that somehow a completed blog would have magically appeared on the page before him, but alas, none of those scenarios were the case. The text cursor continued to blink monotonously in the upper left hand corner of the blank screen.
"Maybe you should get out for a while and take a break, honey," Bigfoot's fiancé sighed, setting down her book again. She was right. She was usually right. No good was coming from sitting in the easy chair and staring at a blank screen.
"You're right. I need to get out and get some inspiration... some ideas..." he said as he closed his laptop. "I'm going to go for a stroll." Bigfoot lowered the footrest on his easy chair and stood up, still clutching his laptop.
"You're taking your computer with you?" Bigfoot's fiancé asked, somewhat confused.
"Of course! I don't want to be without it when inspiration strikes," he said as he strode toward the front door of their condo in the Crypto-Condo Residential Caves.
She looked as though she was on the verge of saying something but thought better of it and simply picked up her book and began reading again. Bigfoot frowned a little and opened the door. He got the impression that she thought his urge to write was an exercise in futility.
He trod silently through the main torch lit hall of the Crypto-Condo Residential Caves until he came to a glass door. Upon opening it, he entered the lobby area. A young banshee sat at the reception desk, her extremely long black hair floating around her head as though she was underwater.
"Out for the afternoon, Mr. Foot?" she asked.
"Yes, I am. And remember, there's no need to be so formal. Calling me Bigfoot is fine," he said to her. He tried to keep things short with her when possible, because it was impossible to tell when she would change from a sweet, professional receptionist to a howling insane banshee.
"Ah, of course. I'll remember that one of these days, Bigfo- ," she stopped speaking abruptly as her eyes glazed over. She drew a raspy inhale, filling her lungs with what was sure to be an earsplitting banshee scream.
Bigfoot jogged to the door, and upon closing it he heard her start to scream and moan. He had made it out just in time. He was glad that the banshee had work, but he wondered if the job really suited her.
The entrance to the Crypto-Condo Residential Caves was disguised to the outside world as a jumble of rocks in an otherwise nondescript hillside. He glanced back at it, making sure that he had properly closed the door, and then continued in his march up the hillside.
Bigfoot's arms swung wide in great arcs as he took each long step. He had no particular destination in mind when he began walking, just hoping to find something or somewhere that seemed peaceful or intriguing. He soon encountered a motorway and had to wait until a line of cars passed before he could cross. He did not need to be seen today. He had far too much work to do.
As he stood as still as possible behind a monstrous pine tree, he considered writing a blog about the struggles of secrecy amongst the cryptid community, how hard it was to remain unseen from the human population that misunderstood them so. He considered, however, that as one of the most visible cryptids in history, that his thoughts and advice of staying out of sight may be mocked... He did not want that.
The cars had passed and he waited a moment, making absolutely sure that no more cars were coming before darting out from behind the pine tree and walking across the street. He began to make his way down a steep slope on the other side. Trees were spread sparsely on the otherwise grass and rock strewn hillside. It took a great deal of effort to maintain his balance and keep a firm grip on his laptop.
The ground leveled out a bit and Bigfoot saw a large flat stone at the foot of an ancient looking pine tree. It looked to be the perfect location for brainstorming blog entries. He rushed to the rock and sat down. A light breeze ruffled the pine needles above him and the clouds drifted lazily in the visible space between the thick tree limbs. Bigfoot took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh air deeply. He closed his eyes and leaned his fur covered head against the trunk of the ancient tree he sat beneath, willing the blog ideas to come to him. This went on for quite some time.
Eventually, Bigfoot opened his laptop. He wanted to be ready when the ideas actually arrived. Although he was in the shade, the glare off of the laptop screen made it very difficult to see anything. Around the same time he noticed the glare, a woodpecker started pecking the tree he was sitting under in short bursts.
"I can't work like this!" Bigfoot exclaimed in frustration. He rose to his feet and closed his laptop. He strode off immediately, walking deeper into the forest as he huffed and puffed with each long, quick step.
The trees and brush surrounding him soon became so thick that it was difficult to walk any further. He saw what appeared to be a trail ahead of him, and slowly made his way through the thick undergrowth, winding between tree trunks until he reached it.
Under normal circumstances Bigfoot would avoid a trail, as it likely meant that humans had cleared the path, and at the end of it would be actual humans or a human settlement of some type. However, he had a good feeling about this trail. As he stepped out of the thick growth of the forest and onto the trail, his intuition was confirmed. There were numerous tracks indicating that a variety of cryptid creatures had trod the muddy path. It would be safe for him to travel down it as well.
Although Bigfoot continued to follow the trail, his mind was elsewhere. He walked on, but he thought only of possible blog topics, or rather, tried to think of possible blog topics.
"Trees? Could I blog about trees?" he said under his breath, stepping over a fallen tree that obstructed part of the path. A unicorn jogged past him but he hardly even noticed.
"Fitness?" he spoke aloud. Could he write a blog about fitness? In his youth exercise had been a regular part of his life, but he had to admit that now it was a rarity. He was not overweight or out of health now, but he had no idea how long he could run or how many sasquatch sit ups he could do anymore.
As he considered this, he saw the unicorn begin to slow in the distance. He began to wonder if seeing it jog was what had caused him to think of fitness. He had been considering the effects of subconscious persuasion often recently.
"Psychology maybe?" he whispered to himself. "Psychology is interesting..."
Psychology is interesting, but the problem was that he knew very little about psychology. He could speculate about psychological theories and conventions and such, he reasoned. After all, speculation is a cornerstone of blogging... He made a mental note to revisit the psychology blog idea.
His reverie was disturbed by the sound of a bell and a closing door in the distance. Puzzled, he looked up and saw that the unicorn that had been jogging ahead of him had disappeared. Bigfoot stopped in his tracks, his muscles tense and his shaggy red-brown fur standing on end, making him appear even larger than usual. What was going on?
Cautiously, he took a few steps forward. He stood on the tips of his bare feet and peered through the trees and brush. There was a building ahead in a small clearing. If only he could read what the sign mounted on the roof said...
Finally, it struck him. This must be the Cryptid Café! He had seen the fliers around the forest in the previous weeks. The Cryptid Café was a café owned and operated by a werewolf, but it catered to all cryptids. Bigfoot was initially opposed to the idea of a werewolf owned café in his neck of the woods, but he realized that he was a modern sasquatch and should think like a modern sasquatch. Not all werewolves were so bad. Sure, there were some that were rather nefarious, but the same could be said of sasquatches, or sea monsters, or even jackelopes.
Bigfoot's stomach rumbled, and the thought of writing, or even attempting to write, on an empty stomach would likely be even harder than it was already. A good cup of coffee could do him some good too, he reasoned. He made up his mind, walking with purpose down the trail to the Cryptid Café.
Soon, he stood before
the café. He could see through the tall glass windows that lined the Cryptid Café, that it was quite busy with a number of various types of cryptids. The neon sign reading 'Open' buzzed monotonously in the silent clearing outside the café. A black motorcycle was parked around the corner.
Bigfoot took a deep breath, glanced at the werewolf behind the counter, and pushed the entrance door open. A bell rung above his head and the sweet intoxicating aroma of freshly baked scones entered his nostrils. He had heard about these scones. They were the cornerstone of the Cryptid Café. Every cryptid on the planet likes a good scone, and they know when they have found one. Bigfoot had a feeling that he was in for a great treat.
"How may I help you sir?" the werewolf behind the counter growled politely. Bigfoot instantly felt ashamed that he had ever thought that a werewolf should not be operating a café of its own.
"I'd like a large cup of coffee with just a bit of cream, and a scone please."
"Do you want anything on your scone?" the werewolf asked, its teeth bared.
"Hmmm... Any recommendations?" Bigfoot asked. Although judging by the scent floating heavily through the air, he was quite certain that the scones would be tasty even without anything added to them.
"The apricot preserves have been very popular lately. I have to agree, they