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The news was that Bigfoot had blackballed himself from every housing complex he ever lived in, in the small little town he came from in northern Vermont. He was such a terror to this tiny community and anyone that had ever rented him an apartment that he was now sleeping out in the cold and begging for help from anyone that could hear his cries.
This included the millions of people who tuned into the show every day to hear how he was doing. And this included me.
Does anybody give a fuck about Bigfoot? Will anyone do anything to help save this man? I will be the one to go save Bigfoot! For real? Do you know anything about Bigfoot? In , I was a year-old writer… which is just a nicer way of saying I was a year-old unemployed raging alcoholic… And on top of that I had a penchant for making the most horrible decisions when I was drunk.
Now, back to the story… Within the hour from when I called the Stern Show and they called me back I got trashed… beyond drunk. Hold up! Were they really gonna play my voice and talk about my ludicrous idea. What I heard coming out of my own mouth made me want to take a shower in kerosene and then light a match. I was praying that within the millions of people listening to the show none of them could figure out it was me.
Unfortunately, I had a lot of friends that listened to the show… but nowhere near as many friends as my wife had listening. And within 2 minutes of the news report ending my phone blew the fuck up.
I got drunk every day and said shit on the radio about Bigfoot coming to live at my house. Then my friends and family would call, telling me I sounded like a well-spoken intoxicated retard and that I was no doubt even crazier than Bigfoot. Then I would go to bed, wake up and do it all over again… And like I said, this went on for almost 2 weeks… and from there things just snowballed out of control.
Are you going to pick him up and bring him back to your house or not? You gotta go pick up Bigfoot tomorrow or this story is over! However, I felt bad.. Even though I was making plans and telling the world he was gonna come live with me and my wife and be part of our family. I had no idea that Bigfoot was schizophrenic..
I just thought he got dropped on his head as a kid, or drank Drano and gave himself wetbrain. And then Bigfoot answered the phone. I could hear a loudspeaker in the background calling for nurses and doctors. Where the fuck am I it is?!
When the fuck are you coming to pick me up it is? The guy coming to rescue you… remember?! Can you wait one more day?! What the fuck is this guy talking about? When are we going to your house it is?! You need to get me out of here and take me to your house right now it is! You better fuckin be here tomorrow it is! The fuckin dude just hung up on me. To say I was left shaken is the understatement of the year. After Bigfoot hung up on me I was left staring at my phone for at least two minutes.
So with millions of listeners hanging on my next move, I waited for my wife to go to work the next day. I did not want her knowing that I was actually bringing Bigfoot back to the house. Also, I had another huge problem… I had no money.
I had 60 dollars to my name. How was I gonna fill my van with gas , cross the George Washington Bridge, drive to Canada, fill the van with gas again and make it all the way back to New Jersey on 60 dollars? So I decided to take all the decision making out of my own hands. I knew if I got really really drunk that I would just go..
Alcohol made me do stupid stupid things.. And once I was on the road I would just improvise and make shit up as I went along. I called the radio show at about 5 in the morning and told them I finally made it. Where am I picking him up? Every time I call him he keeps hanging up on me. I have no idea where he is. I had disappeared on her over night and I was quite sure she knew where I was. So I thought about it and I came up with an idea.
So I drove to the only all night gas station in town. I begged and pleaded with these people to just let me give them my credit card numbers so I could fill up, it was a matter of life or death.
And what are you doing here? So I told them. I might as well have asked if they knew who OJ Simpson was, they knew exactly the piece of shit I was talking about. When I told these people who I was they did a complete Apparently I was their knight in shining armor.
The entire town of Newport had been praying and anxiously awaiting my arrival. Everyone in town had been waiting for me to come take the monster away. After that they took my credit card numbers with glee, and let me fill up my tank. They even gave me free soda, chips, pizza, whatever I wanted. When I left that gas station I was a new man. Now only one thing remained… meeting Bigfoot.
It was snowing and I drove down the street to the Newport Motel and got ready for the big moment. When he answered the phone I thought he was getting tasered… he was just screaming. He sounded like a caveman clubbing his wife.
You fuckin left me here again it is! You said you were gonna be here yesterday it is! I knew meeting Bigfoot in person in just a few short minutes was gonna be borderline traumatizing and a memory I would never forget.
This was it. After weeks on the radio and millions of people waiting, Bigfoot and I were about to come face to face. I knocked. I heard Bigfoot hollering inside the motel room, it sounded like he was tripping over everything except the carpet. And then the door flew open and there he was! Since I had to step up and into the motel room Bigfoot was now well over 7 feet tall and just standing there looming over me.
Aside from a pair of old beat up Fruit of the Loom decrepit underwear he was wearing, Bigfoot was totally naked. He had no clothes on except the underwear. But I had no choice, he was still screaming at me to get inside the motel room.
I stepped inside and Bigfoot slammed the door behind me. After Bigfoot shut the door behind me he was still screaming, but now he was just screaming at himself. Do you know anything about bedbugs and scabies it is? There was garbage everywhere… I mean fucking everywhere. The milk jugs looked like lava lamps as the gelatinous milk slowly floated around in the jugs.
Stacked up next to the heater were cardboard boxes filled with random trash, and it looked like Bigfoot had been rifling through these boxes because he had just thrown pounds of garbage everywhere. Within the the boxes it was fucking alarming. He had socks and shoes and diapers and raw bacon, he had pieces of pizza stuffed in there and potatoes mixed in with couch cushions. There was ground beef and 8-track tapes just in case Bigfoot felt like listening to The Bee Gees. It was an inch pile of candy wrappers from every chocolate company in America including Europe.
Along with that Bigfoot also had industrial sized crates filled with 2-liter bottles of soda… one after the other stacked on top of each other, and most of the 2-liter bottles of soda were empty.
Then Bigfoot noticed I was staring at the 50 bottles of soda and he walked over and grabbed one of the nearly full bottles of Sunkist… twisted off the cap and began chugging the thing like he was doing a keg-stand. And this whole time, aside from the filthy underwear he was wearing, he was completely naked. Bigfoot then told me to sit down and that he wanted to talk to me.
I cleared a pile of debris and sat down on the edge of the dresser.. It was time for Bigfoot and I to get to know each other. I been scratching myself til I bleed it is.. I need help it is! But listen, why are you trying to kill yourself? What happened to that five thousand dollars you won for being the craziest dude in the country? And to be truthful, I was starting to feel really bad for him. I grabbed the bag of pot and just started rolling joints as Mark laid there continuing to rub his feet together like he was trying to peel his skin off.
Bigfoot led the way to the bathroom while scratching himself with both hands all over his entire body. He looked a gorilla with poison ivy. This bathroom was so fucking small that Bigfoot and I looked like we were trying to play a game of Twister. Our bodies were just smushed together. Bigfoot was still scratching himself like he was having a seizure and there I was with my face mashed up against his armpit while I was trying to press the rest of my body up against the wall, or hover over the sink..
I was contorting my body like a cheese-curl , just trying to do whatever I could to get the hell away from his bedbugs and scabies. Bigfoot was literally lighting the joint and scratching himself at the same time while he talked to me and I talked back to his armpit hair. And then it happened…Without even thinking I started scratching the back of my neck. As soon as he said that I dove out of that bathroom like someone threw a fuckin grenade in there. I started freaking out before I finally got ahold of myself..
Mark, are you in any condition to run errands? What the fuck kind of errands do you have to run? Where are you buying clothes? Now that I was seeing Bigfoot outside and in broad daylight my jaw was down by the gas-pedal. Then my phone rang and it was one of my friends. The place looked like a bait and tackle shop mixed into into a dollar store.
All of a sudden Bigfoot was talking louder than someone screaming for help. At the top of his lungs Bigfoot just started rambling, and every other word that came out of his mouth was an F-bomb. I need fuckin pants it, I need fuckin underwear it is, they never have my fuckin size it is! All over the parking lot and even a hundred-yards across the street throngs of people were looking at us and pointing.
I was mortified. I was trying to tell Bigfoot to the shut the fuck up because everybody was pointing at me too… but it was too late… we were already walking into the store, and holy fucking shit, I had no idea I was in for the biggest public trainwreck I would ever experience in my life. Walking in right behind him, I saw everybody in the store scatter like fuckin cockroaches.
Mark was screaming that the store was a fuckin ripoff and that the employees never treated him with any fuckin respect. I vividly remember parents diving in front of their children and curling the kids up into a ball and shielding them from the freight train of horror that was rolling their way. Other parents, on both levels of the store, just picked their kids up and ran… they just took off, sprinting to the nearest exit.
The poor employees behind the counter, who were manning the cash registers, had looks on their faces like they were standing on a beach and a tsunami was coming. And then there was me, like I was a truck and Bigfoot was a snowplow, and together we were clearing everything and everyone out from in front of us.
You wonder why this whole town hates you! Just shut up! Stop screaming and cursing! Mark immediately quieted down. The way they were looking at me I thought they wanted my autograph, or wanted to give me a round of applause, for taking control of the foul-mouthed animal that just roamed into their store. When Bigfoot and I reached the upper level of the store in search of underwear, the few people that were still up there shopping bolted for the stairs. Bigfoot paid no attention to this either.
Seeing people run away from him was like watching the sunrise, it was just another everyday occurrence. Mark complied as I tore the plastic open to the underwear and told him to go to the dressing room, put on the underwear and wait for me to bring him clothes to try on. He was just standing there like a museum exhibit, fully naked. That was a good question. So I ran down the stairs and asked the girl at the register for a pen and a piece of paper.
I ran back upstairs, waited for Mark to come crashing out of the dressing room like the Kool-Aid man, and then I wrote a note and put it on top of the clothes, which were laying on the floor. Do not touch these clothes with bare hands! Burn immediately! We were done, now all that was left was to pay for the clothes.
We went back downstairs and I noticed the once crowded store was now completely empty. When the girl working the cash register saw us coming, her face looked like Frankenstein was coming to make a purchase. We gotta hurry this up… I have to start heading back to New Jersey. They made my sandwich wrong last time it is!
I want my free Subway hoagie it is! During the ride to go get his sandwich Bigfoot was talking about Subway like they were the Ku Klux Klan and he was a black man and that Subway had been fucking him over since birth.
These poor people we were about to see had nothing to do with it. In his mind every Subway in America was the same store.
I threw the van in park and caught him at the door but it was too late. Bigfoot almost ripped the door off the hinges and blasted into the restaurant like he was gonna hold the place up. It literally felt like a bank robbery as the three teenagers making sandwiches did everything short of putting their hands in the air.
They were scared to death. And then Bigfoot let the kids have it. I want my free sandwich it is! Your sign says that if you fuck up my sandwich it is, I get a free sandwich it is! You guys gave me single meat it is..
Do you know that when we see you coming we close the store immediately! The owner actually told me to lock the doors and turn off the lights if we see you coming. Every time you go one of your Subway rampages I have somebody else quit. No drinks, no soup, no chips…just eat the fuckin sandwich and get the hell outta here! In one bite a third of the twelve-inch sub was gone. Are you even chewing your food… god god!
In four bites the twelve-inch sandwich was gone. Clothes shopping and Subway is one thing. But I am not about to watch you freak out on people who are behind bulletproof glass.
The bank was right around the corner and as Bigfoot got out and walked inside I felt like a getaway driver, someone who wanted no part of witnessing the carnage that was about to happen inside. A posse of bank tellers all rushed outside for an emergency smoke break, and others who I assume were in there just to do some banking were fleeing, some scratching their heads, some turning back around to see what was about to happen inside, and others on their cellphones, calling anyone who would listen to tell them that the local maniac had shown up demanding money.
He got back in the van. Is there anything else we gotta do…or can I start heading home? First, I let Mark go back into the disaster-area that was his motel room while I called the radio-show, so I could fill them in on what a catastrophe it had been following Mark around town while he ran errands.
And second, for some reason Mark was all smiles. I wanna stay… we can have a party it is… I wanna stay here tonight it is.. From there Mark and I got into a heated argument. I told him I had to leave and he told me he wanted to stay and go with me tomorrow.
At one point I had to remind myself that I was arguing with a schizophrenic, which is like arguing with 5 different people. And on the other hand, Bigfoot was refusing to leave until the next day. So I did what I did best, I made up a ridiculous lie and fed it to Bigfoot. I was so hungover, but what was even worse was that my brain was nuked. The entire morning I had to force myself to act like a moron so I could interact with Bigfoot on his level. On the way home the first thing I had to do was figure out what I was gonna tell the millions of listeners who were following every movement I made.
So I just got out and abandoned the van on the side of the road and began to walk in the rain. I was so relieved. I walked into my house, chugged booze until I blacked out, fell asleep, and woke up the next morning and saw that the entire world had called my phone wondering what the fuck happened to me and why did I abandon Bigfoot?
My wife was standing over me like some psycho killer ready to slit my throat. Bigfoot had called my phone over times, wondering where the fuck I was, and that I better be at his door within 30 minutes to pick him up. And the radio-show and its millions of listeners were now thinking that I left Bigfoot high and dry in his ultimate hour of need… which is exactly what I did.
The show was calling me every half hour on the half hour to find out what the fuck was going on. So I did the only thing I could do, I shut the phone off. He had absolutely lost what little mind he had left, screaming at me that the motel was counting down the minutes until they could throw him out on the street.
But the bottom line and the biggest factor in the equation was my state of mind and how I was feeling. I felt like fucking roadkill. And the only stretch of time I was out of the car I spent it with the biggest retarded, psychotic, schizophrenic in the country running errands around a town where everybody wanted to kill us.
In the span of 24 hours I had let down my wife, Bigfoot, an entire town, and millions of other people and now all of them were out for my blood. I walked out in the back yard, hid in my shed and started drinking and panicking.
There was no way I was getting in the car and driving back to Vermont. I had to buy myself some time. More importantly, I had to buy Bigfoot some time, or else my grand idea of trying to save his life was just gonna end with him trying to kill himself in a jail-cell. It was am, and Bigfoot had 10 minutes left until his boxes of garbage, crates of soda, pounds of candy and bags of pills were all sitting next to him on a curb somewhere.
So I called the front desk of the Newport Motel. What has he done to the room? This lady and I ended up getting into it. I tried convincing the woman that although Bigfoot hauls garbage around with him and lives like a troll under a bridge he keeps his room tidy. And even though the radio said I was still in the area, I had to jet back to New Jersey to keep my wife from divorcing me.
For some reason I thought this was gonna be a pleasant conversation. Shaw regularly spoke about his struggles with mental health during his radio appearances. He was arrested in for allegedly attacking the police chief in Newport, Vermont with a three-and-a-half-foot-long sword, local publication the Caledonian Record reported at the time.
He was found incompetent to stand trial and was held at a mental health facility at the time. The notorious radio figure has been convicted of at least 23 misdemeanor charges. Crime Time is your destination for true crime stories from around the world, breaking crime news, and information about Oxygen's original true crime shows and documentaries.
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