As I drew my last breath, Images of the horrors

As I drew my last breath, Images of the horrors I had created, of the lies and deceit I had inflicted upon innocent people, flooded my mind. I had been a news anchorman for over 40

residents in upper Sasquatchewan. My "Tea With Bigfoot" segment (Tuesdays after sports) actually starred Vinny, my costumed cousin. Ironically, my fate had been sealed by the real

Sasquatch who didn't take kindly to Vinny aping him on th weekly radio program & hitchhiked to Saskatoon & showed up at the CBC radio studio just as Vinny was suiting up as Bigfoot

's Therapist. Sasquatch finally realized that Mr. Henderson was making fun of him. This wasn't friendship, this was something else. This was co-dependency

of a sort that Sasquatch had abandoned long ago. Mr. Henderson was just something else to be avoided. Blueberry muffins were just a lure to further mockery and tabloid press. So,

I spent the better part of 8 months in my basement laboratory perfecting the design for my Mr. Henderson trap. It was an elaborate death contraption, a Rube Goldberg device, which

was overly complicated but would eventually got the job done. Poor, unsuspecting Mr Henderson would lean back in his chair, triggering a cord which would pull the leg of a

side table, toppling the lamp, which crashed to the floor, upsetting the ashtray which was on the edge of Mr. Henderson's desk, catching some files on fire, then spreading quickly

, consuming the nylon carpet tiles in its fiery maw. Last I saw of Mr Henderson, he was silhouetted against the flames like the boy on the burning deck, beautiful and bright.