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Bigfoot, Dirty Hairy, Dirty Harry -

The fog rolled low through the mountains, thick as cigarette smoke in a back alley poker den. Somewhere between Dahlonega and the deeper stretches of the Chattahoochee National Forest, something was stomping around in the dark, and incoming were the reports of locals saying they had seen something large and beastly.  Tourists blamed black bears. Locals blamed drunken tourists on moonshine. The hunters knew better. Sheriff Colton adjusted his hat nervously as he hung up the phone. “I’m tellin’ you Shin, it’s Bigfoot.” The accusation seemed insane, but given the most recent reports, it was indeed the legendary beast, or Andre the Giant dressed...

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