It was one of those misty mornings in Nevada County, the kind where the fog rolls in thick, making the pine trees look like shadowy sentinels guarding long-forgotten secrets. The meeting had been arranged in the most Bigfoot way possible: cryptic messages on the Broad Street Beacon’s Instagram, followed by GPS coordinates that led to an undisclosed location in Tahoe National Forest. When we arrived, an old VW bus with psychedelic swirls parked at the edge of the clearing gave us the hint we were in the right spot.
Bigfoot, casually leaning against a Douglas fir, looked far more approachable than you’d expect for an elusive forest legend. Sporting a sign that boldly read “WEREWOLVES ARE NOT REAL,” he had the demeanor of someone who’s seen it all but prefers to keep to himself. The air smelled of pine needles, damp earth, and maybe a hint of nostalgia for a time when the forest was quieter and you could roam around without every amateur YouTuber trying to catch you on camera.
After a round of pleasantries—and a quick exchange about the state of the local taco scene—we settled in, ready to discuss the things that really matter: the state of the local economy, conspiracy theories swirling through Nevada County, and, of course, Bigfoot’s shocking claim that, despite popular belief, werewolves are not real. Bigfoot was ready to set the record straight as we sat down in towering trees, sipping on some fair-trade coffee brewed over a portable camp stove.
The Broad Street Beacon: Thanks for sitting down with us, Bigfoot. We know you’re a busy guy these days—what with all the blurry photos and grainy videos.
Bigfoot: Yeah, it’s tough out there. I used to just have to dodge one or two cryptozoologists a year but with social media? It’s like everyone’s got a camera. I can’t even stop for a taco without someone trying to get a selfie with me.
The Broad Street Beacon: Speaking of tacos, we’ve got to ask—what’s your favorite spot? Is it true you used to hit up the Taco Shell here in town?
Bigfoot: [Laughs] You caught me! Taco Shell was my go-to when I was in the area. No one beats their burritos, and everything looks just like the commercials. Even cryptids need comfort food, you know?
The Broad Street Beacon: Word on the street is that you’ve packed up and left Nevada County. Some locals are saying the economy’s been tanking ever since. Is there any truth to the rumor that businesses are closing because you stopped shopping local?
Bigfoot: I mean, I don’t want to take full credit for the closures, but yeah, I’ve moved on to some other forests. Tahoe’s been nice this time of year—less paparazzi. As for the businesses… Look, I always tried to shop small, but when they started blaming me for everything, I had to cut my losses.
The Broad Street Beacon: Any regrets?
Bigfoot: Not really, but I heard that several burger joints closed after I left. They made a mean double cheeseburger, but rent’s high in these forests. Plus, when competing with places like Burgers & Cream, there’s only so much a cryptid can do.
The Broad Street Beacon: There’s a lot of noise on social media these days. People blame everything from inflation to Biden’s haircut for local business closures. What’s your take on that?
Bigfoot: Oh man, the conspiracy theories have gotten out of control. Last I heard, someone claimed I was part of a deep-state plan to shut down burger places. Do I look like the kind of cryptid that’s got time for politics?
The Broad Street Beacon: It’s wild out there. But the real buzz lately isn’t even about businesses or burgers—it’s your recent claim that werewolves aren’t real. That’s a pretty bold statement coming from you, of all creatures.
Bigfoot: I know, I know. People think I’m in the same club as werewolves just because I’m a cryptid, but that’s not true. Werewolves are like those urban legends your drunk uncle tells at Thanksgiving—they just don’t exist. They’re all howl, no bite.
The Broad Street Beacon: That will shake up some local beliefs. We’ve got a couple of spots around here that claim to have had werewolf sightings. Are you sure you’re not just stirring the pot?
Bigfoot: Look, I’ve spent centuries dodging humans, so I’ve seen a lot of strange things. But werewolves? Never. And trust me, if they were real, they’d be hitting up Taco Shell at 2 a.m. just like the rest of us.
The Broad Street Beacon: What do you think the locals see when they report werewolves?
Bigfoot: It’s probably just their neighbor who had too many IPAs. You know how it is—things get weird when the full moon rises over Nevada County. But a werewolf? Nah. That’s just a wild night in the woods.
The Broad Street Beacon: You’ve been in Nevada County for a long time. What’s changed since you first set up camp here?
Bigfoot: Well, the biggest thing is the noise—there’s so much more chatter. When I first moved here, it was just me and the occasional hiker. Now, it’s all drones, 5G conspiracies, and people blaming chemtrails for their lack of business. It’s exhausting. The peace and quiet is why I left in the first place.
The Broad Street Beacon: Any parting advice for the locals?
Bigfoot: Yeah, stop blaming werewolves for your problems. They don’t exist. Maybe take a look at your business model before you start pointing fingers. Also, if you see me around Tahoe, I’m off-duty. No selfies.
The Broad Street Beacon: One last question—any chance of a Bigfoot comeback tour in Nevada County?
Bigfoot: Never say never. If Taco Shell ever opens a second location in Tahoe, I might have to reconsider.
