Though the date of his birth is a mystery, we do know that Allister grew up in a small mining town on the other side of the world from where you grew up. The night of his birth, his mother checked into a hospital. She'd been feeling faint and the doctors wanted to keep her overnight just to be on the safe side. The pit pat of doctor's footsteps in the hall had sung her to sleep in a matter of minutes and it was in this slumber that Allister was born. Allister had wanted to make his first appearance in the world as pain-free and easy as he could for his mother.
So, as she slept he quietly crawled out, clipped the umbilical chord, carefully tied it into a bow, and tucked it into his navel. He washed himself off in the sink, climbed out, wrapped a blanket around himself, tidied up the place a bit (Nothing serious, just some dusting and straightening out of shelves.), and cuddled next to his mother-all while the lullabye of footsteps danced in her dreams.
His mother woke eventually and was quoted later as saying that finding her son lying next to her was, "Like Christmas-except that I pretty much knew what I was getting, but even so, it was nice." Newspapers heard the story and quickly blew it out of proportion. Common headlines of the time were, 'Miracle or Alien Baby?', 'Freak Baby Knows How to Tie Bows!', or even the more pointed 'That Baby Will Eat Our Children!' The media frenzy that ensued was hard on Allister and his family. After all, how could a newborn prove to the world that when he got teeth he would not eat their children?
Allister played alone for most of his infant years. At the age of two, though, a sasquatch was spotted drinking in a local saloon and the media finally moved on to a new target as they swarmed the woods and the local bar scene, looking for the Big Foot who "could drink us all under the table," as a local drunkard described. With the media distracted, Allister's two-year-old life suddenly opened up in remarkable ways. His mother could finally take him outside. He was invited to birthday parties and could play in sandboxes with other children.
Allister sent a letter to the sasquatch, thanking him for the sacrifice in the only way a two year old could-with finger paint. It was honorable to lay down your life to save someone else's, of course, but it was also a little on the sad side. This sasquatch had led a peaceful life for so long and now that he had been spotted that would all be over. There was also the added possibility that this sasquatch could very well have an alcohol dependency problem and needed help.
Allister wanted the sasquatch to know how much he appreciated the sentiment and that, if he needed a friend, Allister was there for him (He included a small map of how to get to his house in the letter to prove it.). He waited in anticipation for a response and finally he got one. The mailman returned his letter. Apparently, you could not send a letter without an address and, on top of that, Allister was too young to understand the importance of using postage stamps. Allister needed a new course of action. So, he packed what he could in his blanket (Two bottles, a rattle, and a pacifier (He was, after all, teething.).), tied it to a stick, and headed out to hand-deliver his letter of thanks to his savior.
A day passed and Allister had seen no sign of the sasquatch. Half a bottle was gone. He had no idea where to turn next. He was losing his determination. Defeat was creeping inside. So, he found a large tree, set his bag down, and did what he'd done since his days in the womb when he was unsure of himself. He layed down and curled into the fetal position. His dreams that night were dark and cold. It was a combination of being away from home and also that, for the first time since he was the media's main target, he felt completely alone. But, midway through his sleep a great warmth came over him. He felt lighter. Like he was floating. The world dropped out from under him, but he knew he wasn't going to fall. He woke the next morning to find himself cradled in the long-haired arms of his savior. The sasquatch's eyes were closed and his body moved with every large, peaceful breath he took. Allister looked up and smiled. His savior had saved him once again.
He let his friend sleep a little longer and then tugged gently on his chest hair until his eyes slowly opened. And for the first time, Allister looked directly into the eyes of his friend. There was no hello. Neither had a very extensive vocabulary. So, instead of trying to understand each other, they just looked deep inside and understood. The beast lowered Allister carefully and set him on the ground. Allister handed him his finger-painted letter and the sasquatch gently gave Allister's little head a pat. It was all that was needed. Allister waved a two-year old goodbye, then, reached into his bundled-up blanket on a stick and pulled out a bottle, handing it to the sasquatch. The sasquatch nodded and Allister turned and headed home.
So, as she slept he quietly crawled out, clipped the umbilical chord, carefully tied it into a bow, and tucked it into his navel. He washed himself off in the sink, climbed out, wrapped a blanket around himself, tidied up the place a bit (Nothing serious, just some dusting and straightening out of shelves.), and cuddled next to his mother-all while the lullabye of footsteps danced in her dreams.
His mother woke eventually and was quoted later as saying that finding her son lying next to her was, "Like Christmas-except that I pretty much knew what I was getting, but even so, it was nice." Newspapers heard the story and quickly blew it out of proportion. Common headlines of the time were, 'Miracle or Alien Baby?', 'Freak Baby Knows How to Tie Bows!', or even the more pointed 'That Baby Will Eat Our Children!' The media frenzy that ensued was hard on Allister and his family. After all, how could a newborn prove to the world that when he got teeth he would not eat their children?
Allister played alone for most of his infant years. At the age of two, though, a sasquatch was spotted drinking in a local saloon and the media finally moved on to a new target as they swarmed the woods and the local bar scene, looking for the Big Foot who "could drink us all under the table," as a local drunkard described. With the media distracted, Allister's two-year-old life suddenly opened up in remarkable ways. His mother could finally take him outside. He was invited to birthday parties and could play in sandboxes with other children.
Allister sent a letter to the sasquatch, thanking him for the sacrifice in the only way a two year old could-with finger paint. It was honorable to lay down your life to save someone else's, of course, but it was also a little on the sad side. This sasquatch had led a peaceful life for so long and now that he had been spotted that would all be over. There was also the added possibility that this sasquatch could very well have an alcohol dependency problem and needed help.
Allister wanted the sasquatch to know how much he appreciated the sentiment and that, if he needed a friend, Allister was there for him (He included a small map of how to get to his house in the letter to prove it.). He waited in anticipation for a response and finally he got one. The mailman returned his letter. Apparently, you could not send a letter without an address and, on top of that, Allister was too young to understand the importance of using postage stamps. Allister needed a new course of action. So, he packed what he could in his blanket (Two bottles, a rattle, and a pacifier (He was, after all, teething.).), tied it to a stick, and headed out to hand-deliver his letter of thanks to his savior.
A day passed and Allister had seen no sign of the sasquatch. Half a bottle was gone. He had no idea where to turn next. He was losing his determination. Defeat was creeping inside. So, he found a large tree, set his bag down, and did what he'd done since his days in the womb when he was unsure of himself. He layed down and curled into the fetal position. His dreams that night were dark and cold. It was a combination of being away from home and also that, for the first time since he was the media's main target, he felt completely alone. But, midway through his sleep a great warmth came over him. He felt lighter. Like he was floating. The world dropped out from under him, but he knew he wasn't going to fall. He woke the next morning to find himself cradled in the long-haired arms of his savior. The sasquatch's eyes were closed and his body moved with every large, peaceful breath he took. Allister looked up and smiled. His savior had saved him once again.
He let his friend sleep a little longer and then tugged gently on his chest hair until his eyes slowly opened. And for the first time, Allister looked directly into the eyes of his friend. There was no hello. Neither had a very extensive vocabulary. So, instead of trying to understand each other, they just looked deep inside and understood. The beast lowered Allister carefully and set him on the ground. Allister handed him his finger-painted letter and the sasquatch gently gave Allister's little head a pat. It was all that was needed. Allister waved a two-year old goodbye, then, reached into his bundled-up blanket on a stick and pulled out a bottle, handing it to the sasquatch. The sasquatch nodded and Allister turned and headed home.
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