"Oh, dear." Marty set down her iPhone and gave her partner of over 30 years a sad, sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry, baby."

"What?" asked Ben, his shoulder slumping. He was afraid to ask. "What did he find now?"

Adjusting her reading glasses, Marty picked up her phone again. "His website just posted this five minutes ago." She cleared her throat. "Clyde Burns, worldly expert in the Pacific Northwest Sasquatch, captures another remarkable sighting on video during his son's 5th grade class camping trip."

Ben leaned forward and banged his forehead against his desk. "Worldly expert?" he repeated. "What does that even mean?" Above his computer and all throughout their living room hung hundreds of photographs, newspaper clippings, scientific journal articles, maps, and post-it notes. Ben had devoted his entire life to tracking Sasquatch ever since the remarkable incident he Marty and Clyde had experienced in the second grade. Ben had majored in genetics and paleoanthropology at the University of Washington, sequenced DNA of reported Sasquatch hair samples as an intern with the Olympic Project and invested thousands of dollars in cameras, drones and radar.

But despite his efforts and moving to the epicenter of Sasquatch sightings in the rainforests near Forks, Washington (home of Twilight vampires), he and Marty had never seen or detected another Sasquatch since they were eight-years-old. Ben meticulously documented his efforts on his blog www.sasquatchscience.com. It was an earnest, but not highly trafficked website.

Clyde, on the other hand, seemed to either see or find evidence of Sasquatch at least once a year. His blog www.therealsasquatchbaby.com was gaudy and flashy. It had led to an interview on Good Morning America, multiple write-ups in the Seattle Times, and allowed him to retire from the job he'd had bagging groceries since high school. Clyde sold mugs, T-shirts, and posters on his website and had converted his family's home into a Sasquatch museum that was located conveniently on the main road traveled by the Twilight tourists that flocked to Forks. He was usually drunk by 5pm every day.

"Maybe I should give up and get a job," sniffed Ben. He joined Marty on the sofa. She had supported him and his cause with her meager park ranger since college.

"Don't give up, baby," she said as he lay his head on her lap. She petted his thinning hair. "You'll have your moment in the limelight."

"Maybe we didn't really see Sasquatch when we were eight," said Ben, his voice quivering. "Maybe it was just our childish imaginations."

"I know what I saw," said Marty. "And you saw it too."

"Then why, with all the training, research, and hard work haven't I found Sasquatch again and Clyde has?"

"I don't know, sweetheart," said Marty. "But you've heard the old saying 'The lucky shall beat the skillful every time.'"