Creslin Johns sat cozily reclined in front of the television. He was impatiently sucking down his steaming Hungry Man dinner when he heard a rustling outside. His motion detector bulb flickered on and off. A drop of hot gravy sizzled down from his chin and onto his lap. He grabbed a rifle from the rack he had installed for just such an occasion.

“Probbly just a coon,” he mumbled to himself.

For his size — 6 foot 1, 240 lbs — he was quite agile. In three seconds flat, he had both barrels leveled out the window. His eyes adjusted quickly to the slightly moonlit West Virginia wilderness. The small mountain truck stop was mostly deserted. A few semi trucks could be heard idling at a filling station across the street. A chorus of cicadas pulsed rhythmically on and off. Nearly back in his seat, he heard the rustle once more. It came from the other direction. Across the street perhaps?

An eerie feeling crept up from his stomach. He locked the door quickly and shut his window. Feeling silly…emasculated, he sat down and wiped his brow. Nothing out there — just the wind.

No more sounds. The cicadas grew still and the tree frogs hushed. Only the intermittent whoosh from the winding country highway remained. Creslin hopped up and pressed his face to the window. What he saw drained the blood from his face.

Standing at the edge of the thicket was a burly, hairy, bear of a man. Without the mud, he was nude from head to toe. But, the mud caked every inch of him. He stared off into the woods with the breeze barely budging his crusty mane.

Creslin’s eyes fixated on the sight with terror. His hands fumbled with the rifle and looked down to steady himself. Glancing sheepishly back up, he was met by the round brown face. BANGKKK! The rifle blew a hole through his roof; the recoil sent him flying into his kitchen counter. Hands and knees, he scrambled to the window. Off in the distance, the mannish creature looked muddier than ever. Now, he was in the middle of a set of jumping jacks. Previously silent, vaguely human grunts now echoed through the truck stop.

His shaking hands picked up the vibrations — filling him with renewed horror. No longer could he hear the idling of nearby truckers. The insects resumed full volume, but the grunts overshadowed with mounting vigor.