(I writed this all by my self. Took me 17 minits to find the comma button.)
Hi frends. It me, Bigg Foot, and I gotta tell u the storie of wut happend yesturday when me an Racoon went down the mowntin to Ashland, Vurginnyuh to do sum Chrissmus shoppins. I sed it wuz jus gonna be “a kwik trip,” but NOPE. Anythin wif Racoon is NEVER kwik or peeceful or legal.
So we walkin down the town, lights all sparkly, jingle bells jinglin, humins pretendin they dont see a 600-pownd majestic forest beast carryin Target bags. I sed to Racoon:
“Racoon, we stick to the plan. We get gifts. We get cocoa. We go home.”
He sed,
“kewl. Also do u think the ABC stoar is open? For… um… ‘research’?”
I sed NO.
He herd YES.
He always herd YES.
🎁 The Ashland ABC Store Incident of 2025 (plz dont tell the news ppl agin)
So I’m lookin at a snowglobe that look JUST like Joshwa’s jeep (tho his jeep never smells that nice), and suddenly I relize…
Racoon is gone. G-O-N. Gone.
I look left.
I look rite.
I look in my bags to see if he climbed in there agin.
No Racoon.
Then I hear a CLANG-SCRITCH-PLOP-THUD-SHATTER-uh-oh.
I look up an see his lil striped butt wigglin INSIDE THE HVAC VENTS OF THE ABC STORE.
HOW DID HE GET IN THERE???
He say he is “smol an made of noodles.”
So he wigglin thru the vents in total dark, probly hummin to hizself, an suddenly BOOM he fall out of the ceilin, right onto the shelf wif all the spensiv fancie bottlz locked in a glass case. The GLASS did NOT win this battul.
There wuz broken bottlez errywhere.
Racoon was covered in “top shelf” smellz.
Half the floor looked like a crime seen at a winery.
He stumbl’d around like a wet sock full of dreams an then waddled to the bathroom, curled up next to the mop bucket, an passed OUT COLD.
I stood outside yellin thru the vent,
“RACOOOON COME OUT OR I LEAVE U FOR SANTA’S NAUGHTY LIST!”
He sed,
“zzz… tell Santa I was framed by gravity…”
🚨 Bigfoot Accidentally Reveels His Home Again
When the alarms started screamin louder than Joshwa at tax season, I panikt, scooped Racoon out the back door like a bag of potatoes, and ran home to Potts Mount—
WHOOPS.
Nope.
Nope.
Not tellin.
I live on Poots Mowntin.
Wait.
Pizza Mountain.
Ok forget all that. I live “in the woods.” Very general. Very mysteerious.
Anyway, when we safe at home, I grab Joshwa’s phone (sorry Joshwa) and I FaceTimed SANTA HIMSELF.
Santa lookd tired, like he been dealin wif elf union meetins all day. He look at me an sed:
“Bigg Foot… what did Racoon do THIS time?”
I sed,
“Santa he did CRIMS AGAIN. He vented into the vent!! Bottlez died!! He smell like disspointment an rum raisin!!”
Santa sed we gotta do an intervenshun. He bring charts. He bring snackz. Racoon bring apologies (if he stay awake).
🎄 VAOR 2026 Side Story: Bigfoot’s Big Plans
While all this drama happnin, I also wanna tell u sumthin excitin.
VAOR gonna use ME more in 2026.
YES ME.
THE BIGGG FOOT.
I get new adventures.
New cartoons.
New blogz.
New “office responsibilties.”
I told Racoon I’m goin to the offis supply stoar next week to get:
- Glitter pens (he not allowed to eat them again)
- A fancy tape rolly thing
- Index cards for my “ideaz”
- Stickers for Bigfoot Klub Membr gifts
- Maybe a staplur cuz I like the sound it make
2026 gonna be MY YEER and Racoon’s “probashun yeer.”
🎅 Racoon’s Fate
Racoon woke up on my couch lookin like a furry raisin. He sed:
“My soul hurts.”
I sed:
“That’s the ABC store talkin.”
He sed he dun remember anything except “bright lights” and “the floor jumpin at him.”
I sed Santa wants to talk to him.
He started cryin into my fur
❤️ Thank U VAOR Frends
Plz don’t tell the Ashland ABC stoar it wuz Racoon.
Say it was a wind, or ghost, or feral shopping cart.
We love u.
We sorry.
We tryin our best (mostly me, not him).
More Bigfoot stuff comin in 2026!!!
— Bigg Foot
Chief of Forest Shenanigans
Probbly on a mountain ur not sposed to know about
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