Listen up, Sekiu, you little sprout! Grandpa Sasquatch’s gonna tell you a story, one that’ll curdle your milk, but one you NEED to hear. Been flappin' these furry wings of mine for fifteen centuries now, seen things that would make your hair turn grayer than my beard – and that's saying something!
Back when the world was still breathin' clean air, and the salmon ran thicker than pine needles on a forest floor, there was this stream… ah, used to be called Singing Salmon Stream. The fish would jump so high, they’d practically land in your cookin’ pot! But that all changed when the… well, let's just call 'em "Stinky Foot Folks" arrived.
These Stinky Foot Folks, they weren't like the good humans who respected the land, the ones who left offerings to the forest spirits. Nope. They were interested in one thing: shiny rocks and quick profits. They started diggin' and muckin', dumpin' all sorts of nasty goo into Singing Salmon Stream.
Made my fur stand on end, it did! Used to watch the otters choke, the eagles cough, and the salmon… well, they just started floatin' belly-up. Sickened me to my ancient core.
I tried to reason with 'em, I did! I landed right smack in the middle of their dig site, spread my wings wide, and roared a roar that shook the mountains. But they just laughed and pointed their… contraptions… at me. Called me a “menace,” said I was disturbing their "progress." Progress! Progress that stank worse than a week-old skunk cabbage.
That's when I met Ol' Hawker, the smelliest human, the king stink! The champion of pollution. He was the worst of them, always wearing that smog-spewing hat that filled the sky with fumes. Our paths crossed so many times. My Hawking nemesis.
Remember that Keanu Paradox I told you about? That the more you fight polluters, the more they seem to pop up? That was him, it was always him.
So I started fightin’ the only way a Fly Sasquatch knows how: by stinkin' right back. I started collectin' the worst-smellin' things I could find: rotten eggs, skunk musk, fermentin' devil’s club… the works! Then, I’d fly over their camp and… poof … a stink bomb from the heavens!
It slowed 'em down, sure enough, but they just kept comin'. Hawking would just laugh like it was funny, like I was being a pain in the butt.
That river never fully recovered, and it makes my heart heavy, even now. But one day a sprout like you will come along and remember my story.
The truth, Sekiu, is that even a 1,500-year-old Fly Sasquatch can't do it all alone. It takes everyone, even the smallest sprout, to stand up for what's right. Respect the land, protect the water, and don't let anyone poison the air. Don’t become a Stinky Foot Folk yourself. Don’t be like Hawker. Fight pollution.