They're All Called Bob

Once upon a time there was a virgin (me, just last week) who was carried off into the woods by a prince. By virgin, I mean I had never been carried off before. I was nineteen. The day was sunny... Well, to be honest it could have been cloudy. Who can remember what the weather was like after what happened? I am pretty sure it wasn't raining. Anyway, moments before my first time, I was two miles up the natural bridge trail writing a ticket to a family of three.

"Five expletive hundred dollars!" The father gasped. "Expletive, expletive, expletive." Seeing that I wasn't moved by his expansive vocabulary, he pushed the ticket back at me and said pleadingly, "Come on, we have a baby."

I didn't take it. Of all the places to toss a dirty diaper, the idiot had chosen right next to a big sign that said: No Littering! Maximum penalty $500.00. I pointed at it. He exchanged an eye roll with his wife.

"We didn't see—"

"Because our baby stuck his hands in his poop," the mother added.

"You can read, can't you?" I asked.

The father rose up on his toes and took a swing at me. I'm taller than I look so he missed. I could have taught him a lesson about hitting a girl. Instead, I maced his ass and then scribbled a second ticket for attempted assault on a park ranger. I gave it to the mother, the only member of the family not crying. She opened her mouth… and stopped, color draining from her face. Slowly her hand rose and she pointed over my shoulder.

"Behind you."

"Yeah, ri—"

Something picked me up, stuffed me under its hairy armpit and sprinted into the overgrown woods alongside the trail. My guts squished so I couldn't breathe. Not that I wanted to. Apparently, my abductor and deodorant were unacquainted. I would have become terrified sooner, but its odor impeded the "oh-my-god-I'm-going-to-die" reflex.

As my abductor ran, my head bobbed up and down, creating the most dizzying effect: sky, forest, floor, trees and branches in the face. I was lucky I didn't get slammed headlong into a tree (as if being a monster's new man-bag is lucky.) Just before I fainted I said, "Unhand me you, oaf!"

Yeah, like that ever works with a Yeti.

Mary. Mary. Sweetheart wake up?" My mother's voice called. Her fingers gently stroked my facial hair. "Wake up, Sweetie. You're safe now."

"Mommy, I had the strangest dream." I opened my eyes slowly. Let me start by saying, Yeti don't wear pants.

I was lying on a cot inside an ancient cave lit by candles. Though the space was shadow cast, I was able to make out hundreds of Yeti paintings ranging from rough charcoal doodles to more modern crayon sketches. My mom was sitting in a folding chair beside my cot. Hovering over her head was, a Yeti of course, but more precisely, a naked Yeti crotch staring back at me. I mean this literally. Yeti have eyes and a second brain in their crotch. It was the second brain that preferred to court Yeti women by carrying them off into the woods and beating them over the head with a club. During the Yeti suffrage of 1949, the female Yeti passed a law that forbade Courting by Club. They wanted dates, candy, and the occasional pine needle bouquet. The second brain refused to change which led to a population decline. I wasn't then yet well-versed on Yeti history, and the only thing that made any sense was…

"I'm high," I said. "You brought the special mushrooms. How many did I eat?"

"Shhh," Mom soothed. "You're not high. Well, you might be. Pine needles are like cat nip for you. What's important is that we're here, and I can now tell you your true identity."

"What?" I sat up. The cot groaned under my weight.

"Mary, this is—" Mom indicated the Yeti. "Well, his name doesn't translate very well into English. Bob is about as close as I can get. He's your prince."

"Mother, what have we been smoking?" I asked.

"Now sweetheart, I need you to listen to me carefully," she said in her best motherly voice. "Your destiny depends on it. Can you do that?"

I thought my destiny involved being a park ranger and monthly Spot-On flea treatment, but I didn't contradict her. We were sharing one hell of a hallucination.

"A long time ago," Mom began slowly.

"That's a little vague. Can we get a year?"

"1972," she said and smacked me.

"Hey!" I rubbed my arm.

"Don't interrupt me. A long time ago, a prophecy foretold a princess would deliver the Abominable Snowmen into heaven…"

"The Abominable Snowmen?

She smacked me again. "Yeti, Sasquatch, Bigfoot… Stop interrupting. So, after you were born, your father and I were entrusted with your care until you became of age plus ten years—everyone is so sensitive about pedophiles these days—at which time your betrothed would club you over the head and drag you to his kingdom."

"What?" I said.

"Mary, you are the Yeti Princess."

There were clues: I wore adult sized eleven shoes in first grade and was taller than all of the teachers. We had to get rid of our dog because I kept catching his fleas, but, rather than throw out the leftover Spot-On, mother called the vet to see if it was safe to use on me.

Mom's foot tapped the cave floor impatiently. "Well, what do you have to say?"

"I thought it was just a glandular thing," I said, leaning against the cave wall. The cot collapsed. "So that's why you wanted me to become a park ranger?"

"Actually, that was your father's idea. He thought it would give you the best chance to fulfill your destiny. He said and I quote, 'No Yeti prince is going to show up in a McDonald's parking lot.' I was against it, of course. I was worried that you might be mistaken for a bear and get shot. Or a bear might mistake you for another bear and try to mate. The prophecy foretold a virgin, but I've heard Yeti are very good lovers. Not from personal experience." She winked. "I love your father very much."

"I'm not a virgin."

"You were raped by a bear?" Mom threw her arms in the air. "I told Bill. I said, 'they'll think she's a bear. The glandular thing only goes so far.' Now we'll never get paid."

"No, no, no. Senior prom, at the after party. The guys were drunk and I had some of those mushrooms from our garden—wait, what do you mean you'll never get paid?"

"Entrusted, paid. It all amounts to the same thing."

"They paid you to take me?"

"I suppose you were going to learn the truth eventually. We're professional prophecy baby raisers. It doesn't mean we don't love you."

"That explains a lot… wait, Bob has money? Where does he keep it? His pockets?"

Mom blinked. Then she grunted to Bob. This is the language of Yeti men. You'd think with that extra brain they'd learn how to say, "hello."

"They pay in gold." Mom patted my knee. "Now it's time to get you married."

"Tell Bob to get lost or… I don't care." I stood up and headed down one of the tunnels. "I'm going back to work, where they appreciate me."

"We can't stop you. Also, the exit is that way." She pointed. To Bob she added, "grunt, grunt, grunt."

"Hey, I... I understood that!"

"Of course, you did," Mom said. "You're the Yeti Princess."

I awoke days later in the candlelit cave. The cot had been replaced by a roughhewn log bed, and this time Mom was wearing a gas mask. I was wondering where the mattress had come from when I realized that Mom was speaking to me.

"I can't hear you with that thing on your head."

Mom lifted the mask. "Honey, even Yeti men bathe at least once a week."

"He clubbed me unconscious." I pointed at my abductor.

Mom took on a facts-of-life tone. "Not all Yeti are as nice as Bob."

"What?" I sat up. My head swam."You mean he isn't Bob?"

"Never mind his name. Yeti men become royalty after they marry a princess. You're the only princess left. That makes you a hot commodity. If you're not going to marry him, it's time we get you out into the woods."

"How can you be okay with this? You're my mother!"

"Oh good, you're starting to grunt like a proper Yeti Princess."

"Whatever!" I stormed out of the cave on my hands and knees.

Another Yeti was waiting by the opening with a club to propose. The only thing good about Yeti custom is that you are free to leave after you wake up. Over the next few days, I must have been abducted thirty times. Bob always stood out because his odor was special even among Yeti males.

"Mom," I moaned rubbing one of the lumps on my head, ”I want to go home."

"You only have yourself to blame for that headache," she said. "All you have to do is pick a husband and they'll stop clubbing you."

“Mom," I stomped my foot. "Please?"

"Fine," she said. "But your father isn't going to be happy."

"I don't care."

Mom sighed and told Bob to take me home. After we crawled out of the cave, I once again found myself tucked up under his armpit. It was beginning to feel almost comfortable.

"Bye baby," Mom waved. "See you soon."

"Not if I had anything to do with it!"

The sun was just touching the horizon as Bob sprinted among the trees. He expertly hopped over rocks and fallen logs, and dodged trees despite the morning fog. I managed to stay conscious the whole way which gave me time to plan my Yeti-free future. I decided that my first order of business was to get my job back, and then get tons of bear spray. If it worked on bears, it had to work on Yeti.

I was quite dizzy by noon when Bob dropped me on the natural bridge trail next to the dirty diaper and vanished into the trees.

"Betsy is doing a terrible job," I muttered, scooping the diaper up with a stick.

Litter in tow, I made my way back to the campgrounds flanked by an entourage of flies. But instead of going to my cabin, I went to the main office by way of the trash bin.

The main office was a weathered log cabin near the entrance of the park. A steady stream of cars pulled in, discovered that all the sites were full, made a U-turn, and left. Being naked, I decided to wait for a lull in the traffic before going inside. In the meantime, another Yeti appeared. Luckily, I saw him before he saw me and was able to hide. Unluckily, it was in a thorn bush.

Just after dark, I finally untangled myself and crossed the road to the main office, hoping my boss still liked to work late. I pulled open the screen door and crept in. It was dark but I could hear somebody moving around in the copy room. I eased open the door and flipped on the lights.

So, there I was in nothing but my body hair, and there was my boss and Betsy with their pants around their ankles.

Awkward.

"Mary!" My boss yelped and yanked his pants up. "What are you doing here? I thought you ran off and got married."

"Who told you that? Never mind. I came to get my job back."

"Your job's gone like your clothes." He leaned against the copy machine and accidentally pushed a button. It started printing copies of boobs. Betsy’s, I assumed, unless other rangers were having an affair.

"I guess you can live with Miss Thing after your wife kicks you out," I said, holding up one of the copies.

"He isn't moving in with me!" Betsy said.

"Both of you relax. Mary, I'll find a job for you. Betsy, nobody's moving in with anybody."

I sat down in a hard plastic chair and Betsy sat across from me tapping her foot. She suggested I go put on a tent. Considering the situation, it wasn't a half bad idea. Two hours later, my boss shouted, "Eureka!"

"What," I straightened.

"What is it?" Betsy asked.

"You can play Smoky the Bear on the weekends!"

I thought he was joking, terrible etiquette all things considered. However, after staring at him for five minutes, I realized he was serious. I stormed out of the office, slamming the door so hard it flew off its hinges.

"So, I'll see you Saturday?" he called after me.

I didn't have a chance to answer because my dad appeared and pointed his shotgun at my head.

I rolled my eyes. "That got old by the time I was twelve. And frankly I'm not in the mood."

"Yeah, well I'm not in the mood to lose out on the Yeti gold. Raising you cost a fortune. Now get in the car."

"Fine!" I slammed the door for good measure. The handle came off in my hand. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it." Dad settled into the front seat. "Soon we'll be able to afford a new car."

He pulled out slowly. The side where I sat rode low to the ground and the station wagon scraped the asphalt. Sparks trailed behind us. The campers nearest to the entrance crawled out of their tents to stare.

"Sit in the middle," Dad said.

I folded my arms. "No."

He pointed the shotgun to my head. "Move it!"

"Or what? You'll shoot me? Ha. You need me alive to get the money."

"Wrong. The fairies will pay handsomely for your corpse, but I love you, so I haven't shot you… yet. Now move over!"

"Fine," I said.

Dad drove with the gun pointed over his shoulder at my head and his finger resting on the trigger. While I didn't think my Dad would shoot me on purpose, I prayed we didn't hit a pothole.

Yellowstone is over two million acres, but we left the park and turned off onto a gravel road that headed deep into privately-owned forested terrain. After ten miles or so and three turns, the gravel turned to dirt. Rutted and worn, my dad put the gun in the passenger's seat and placed both hands on the wheel, maneuvering the station wagon carefully.

"Where are we going?" I asked as we continued to crawl past trees. A deer bounded in front of the car and disappeared.

"I don't think your mother and I have been one-hundred-percent fair. Most girls would be excited to learn they're a princess, and we assumed you would, too."

"Gee, what girl doesn't dream about being clubbed over the head and carried off into the woods?"

"Nix the sarcasm, darling. The fairies are still out there. Anyway, I've rented a hunter’s cabin on some private land just outside the park. Now the Yeti men can come to you, perhaps even bring you flowers and pine needles."

“Gee, thanks," I said.

"Thank your mother," he replied. "It was her idea."

Dad parked the station wagon in front of a small chinked log cabin. It had solar panels on the roof and a porch swing. A moose head hung over the door and a weathered bearskin rug adorned the porch. Dad escorted me inside at gun point, marching me through a living room besmirched by stuffed animals into a small bedroom. He locked the door and retreated. I threw myself onto a musty old bed and cried into the pillow.

A little later, Mom came in with some tea, but I pretended to be asleep until she closed the door. By then, I had decided I wasn't going to take this anymore. I waited until just after midnight and crept out of bed to the window. I carefully raised the pane and slipped out, dropping six feet to the ground. I turned around, breathing deep my freedom.

Dad was waiting there with his shotgun. "March young lady!" He motioned with the barrel. Arms folded, I went stomping around to the front and threw open the door. The entire cabin shook under my agitated footfalls.

"How did she get out?" Mom asked.

"Through the window, just like I said she would. You better put on a fresh pot of coffee and open some sardines. It's going to be a long night."

“Mary, are you hungry?" Mom asked and I nodded. She smiled, "How about a peanut butter sandwich?"

Growling, I stormed back to my room, though I had to wait for dad to unlock it first. Then I had to endure the sound of him nailing the window shut. I pulled the pillow over my head and curled up into a ball. As soon as he left, I jumped through the glass. Somehow, he was there waiting with the gun.

That's how the next few days went. Surviving on strong coffee and sardines, Dad managed to be at every door and window I snuck out of, jumped through, or broke down. Then, on Friday, my parents had their weekly dinner date and my mom would not be dissuaded.

"A good marriage takes work,” she said to my dad. "And that means taking a break from raising prophecy children to go dancing. Mary, you promise not to leave, don't you."

"Sure," I lied.

"She'll be gone when we get back," dad said.

"I know you like to feel manly, so I've let you threaten Mary with the gun all week." Mom gave his arm a squeeze. "But now it's us time. She'll be here when we get back."

"But—"

"No buts." She took the rifle from my dad and dragged him out of the log cabin by his ear.

I watched the station wagon heave down the rutted track until it disappeared behind a bend. Then I exited the cabin and started walking. An hour later and not even a football field from the cabin, I realized escape was hopeless. I had no clothes, I was in the middle of nowhere, and Yeti were hiding behind trees, prepared to propose. I returned to the cabin and called my therapist, praying she would answer. She did, an hour later, after the fourteenth call.

"I need your help," I said. "They're at it again."

"Your sister is a unicorn trapped in a human body?"

"No."

"Your brother is a vampire-werewolf hybrid destined to bring peace to warring factions?"

"No."

"Your cousin is a Halfling entrusted with a powerful ring that must be destroyed before it causes the end of the world?"

"No. This time I'm the Yeti Princess and they won't let me leave the forest."

"Oh?" she said. "That doesn't sound too serious. Why don't you all come in for a family session next Thursday?"

"They're holding me hostage!" I slammed the phone down and ran to my room.

Much later Mom knocked on my door. When I didn't answer, she pushed it open. "Mary? Hey sweetie. How are you holding up?"

"Go away."

"Sure, but first I'd like you to meet… well his name doesn't translate very well into English. The closest I can come is Bob. He traveled all the way from China. There's another suitor coming from Mongolia."

"And what's his name?" I said sarcastically.

"Bob."

"No, not him, the Mongolian."

"Well it doesn't translate into English very well. The closest I can come is Bob."

"So they're all called Bob?" I threw my hands in the air. "What kind of prophecy is this?"

"I never thought about it that way." She tilted her head and then smiled. "But you're right. They're all called Bob."

"And you wonder why I need therapy!" I shouted.

Dad shouldered his way into the room. "Don't talk to your mother that way!"

"Fine, you both win, I'll marry Bob," I said in English.

"No! No!" My mother groaned. "Do you know what you've done? You've just became the wife of them all and fulfilled the Ogre's Prophecy of Yeti Civil War!" To my father she added, "I told you to make a deal with all of them. That way we get paid no matter what."

"Come on," I said. "I haven't married anyone."

"For Yeti, an agreement to marry is binding," my mother said. "Now every Yeti male is king."

And so, the Yeti Princess (me) had made all the Yeti men kings, which might have turned out all right except for one thing: as kings, all the Yeti men had the power to declare war. The second brain deemed this a great idea, even better than Courtship by Club. And nobody lived happily ever after. Especially, not me.