This is the aforementioned eight-year-old-recorded grandpa speech, the story of the Little Wooly-Gig.

My grandfather was somewhat obsessed with the Sasquatch. He often told stories about having seen one while hunting cranes in the woods near Bayou La Batre. Eventually this stories changed from alleged eyewitness accounts to pure fiction that not only involved us grandkids but also a creature called the Wooly-Gig, which was a sort of smaller, friendly version of the Sasquatch. Sort of like an Eewok, I imagined.

The Wooly-Gig had some backstory that was not mentioned on the particular occasion that I had my tape recorder with me. He was raised by his mother after his father, a farmer who was too lazy to actually do any farming, ran off to go become a gambler (I distinctly remember that this story was the first time I heard anyone say "pinochle"). I do not know whether either of the Wooly-Gig's parents was a Wooly-Gig, or if they were humans and he was some sort of a freak. The Wooly-Gig had to become the man of the house at an early age and plow the fields until his hands became rough. Eventually the Big, Bad, Sasquatch started terrorizing the Wooly-Gig and his mother, and little Wooly decided to move away from his mother's house so that the Sasquatch would follow him and leave his mother alone.