Scrumfester Johnson DISCOVERED!

Gallagher, my noble and cockeyed associate, noticed a brown froth forming around the uninhabited regions of Squidmore Valley near Delray, Mich. before he took note of the two-toed tracks creating a circular ring around his food tote, which dangled like drool from a neighboring birch. He documented this occurance at 14:23 on the dirtiest day of August. But before Gallagher settled into his acquired nest of soiled lady linens, he documented something else a tad more peculiar.

The night is dark. Something stinks. I can’t put my finger on it.

And at 06:12, the creature was netted and coddled.

The creature then spoke the following:

“Hello. OK, you got me. Howdy, my name is Scrumfester Johnson. Been living out here in Wyandotte for roughly six years ever since the Sterling Heights Assembly Plant started getting infiltrated with cats. I’ve birthed over 8.2 million spawn within the past few months. My kids all smell like the usual sulfur wafting through the downriver area and eat daily at Church’s Chicken.  You know what I like? I like hound dogs. Like the way the howl with them long ears. I keep an unregistered Remington in my Ford F-150 just in case I run into anyone buying foreign.  I don’t trust them Canadians, but I do appreciate a good Labatts when my throat is  raw from screeching across parking lots to people going in and out of diners.”