The story of Sasquatch is oft misunderstood. Many wax eloquent about the legendary ape-like cryptid roaming the Americas, seen by few and survived by yet fewer.

Reality is much simpler.

One day, Craig, an ordinary house husband, was voluntold by his lovely (if a smidge overbearing) and very pregnant wife of sixteen years to collect for her some zucchinis and eggplants, as she’d had a particular taste for those lately. Ever the sport, Craig obliged. To the woods he went, for his good friend from work had informed him once in passing that there were some exquisite wild vegetables growing there.

He got lost.

So long was he lost that, on the 138th day of his involuntary pilgrimage through the woods of the Americas, he happened upon a group of young tourists. Excited at the prospect of finally returning home yet simultaneously worried about failing to complete the task his wife had set him upon, Craig attempted to explain his predicament to the young men and women, only to realize his voice, having been neglected for over half a year, failed—rather magnificently, might I add—to project any intelligible sound, let alone any intellectual acumen. Needless to say, the group of young men and women quickly retreated to their home of record and spread the word, quite vocally, to any and all that would listen about a hairy (Craig hadn’t shaved in quite a while), impossibly tall (Craig was 5 foot 6 on the best of days) and incredibly vicious (Craig was genuinely incapable of causing any degree of harm to a common house fly) beast that would prey upon unsuspecting people who were unfortunate enough to find themselves in its territory.

In particular, the only intelligible word they’d heard from it was: “S…squash?” And so the legend of Sasquatch was born.

Craig was very tired and just wanted to go home.