Happy Friday Bigfoot!
My name’s Bianca, and I work at Sasquatch Shoes. I took this job believing the company culture centered around you. But my cocky coworker Morgan tells me the company name is a joke and is demanding I stop using company email to circulate “clickbait” like “Bigfoot spotted ordering a Frappuccino at Portland Starbucks.” I’m not sure what clickbait is, I literally only share relevant news.
Come show my coworkers the legend of the ape man whose foot could crush them in one step is real!
Also, do me a favor and pick me up a Grande Cold Brew on the way.
-Bianca — I’ll Venmo you for the Starbucks — what’s your handle, @ bigfoot?
I’m panic sweating knowing that you’re reading this. I can’t believe I just said your name! You probably think I’m a freak! I’m not, I promise! I have a life size statue of you made out of my hair in my closet SHHH don’t tell my parents!! You’re such a heartthrob Bigfoot! You’re so cute I hate you so much! JK I LOVE YOU! Please send me some of your locks!
Kissed & sealed,
Your #1 hairy fan
Well, well, well if it isn’t the Elusive Bigfoot,
I’ve been yodeling Bigfoot calls in the mountains for the last 40 years ever since my ex-wife Barb told me she’d rather be married to Bigfoot. I thought if I brought you home she’d change her mind. But then I realized, why does Barb get to have you? You’re going to be MY friend big man! Squatchy (is it too soon for nicknames?) when you’re ready, my tent is 36 miles southwest of Seattle in a grove of fir trees.
Come say hello, toast an IPA to this budding bromance and stay awhile! I’m waiting!
-Earl, lets crack a cold one
To the king of feet,
How big would you say your feet are? Are they too big for me to hold in my hands? I dream about giving you a pedicure and then dipping your feet in juicy strawberry jam. Then I’d eat every last bit of jam off each toe. MMM.
I want to rest my face upon your feet and use them as a pillow every night. Please let your feet run off into the sunset with me forever!
-Your biggest foot admirer
Hi there Bigfeet (or is it Bigfoot?)
I smashed my five-year old’s piggy bank and spent his life savings to fund a business idea I had: Mittens for Feet. He then packed up his belongings and went to start a new life on the moon apparently. He said the day he’ll forgive me is the day Bigfoot is real. Well, you can see why I’m writing, so I won’t waste any more time.
I’ve included a self-addressed envelope with a pre-written note verifying your existence. All I need YOU to do is return a selfie, scat sample or simply mail yourself to me which in this case I’ve also provided an extra-large box.
P.S. You’d be the perfect model for Mittens for Feet. Let me know what your follower count is on Instagram and if you’re ready to be the next big influencer!
-Lori, a mom whose life will go to shit unless you verify your existence
Honestly, Bigfoot, please respond to these letters. We get them every week and they’re overflowing from your designated mailroom at the post office. Thanks!