Footloose
“I don’t believe in Bigfoot, Skeeter!”
“I don’t think Bigfoot believes in you, either, Bubba. And I don’t care if you believe in him, or it, or whatever you wanna call it, I just need you to go out to Virginia and see if it’s really Bigfoot breaking into vacation houses, or if it’s just some fat kid with a mullet.”
“Fine, but if I hear one Harry and the goddamn Hendersons joke outta you I’m telling Uncle Father Joe about you drinking the communion wine.”
“Bubba! I was fifteen! That was a long time ago!”
“I might leave out a few details. Like how old you were when you were filching the communion wine.”
“Okay, okay. I promise not to make any joke about you and Bigfoot. Now do you want to hear the details of the case or not?”
I didn’t, really. I’d been promised a week on the
