There are three things a minor is not allowed to do in Freefall County, Tennessee. One: drink hooch. Two: view pornography. And three: go fishing in Lake Babba Wabba.

By the time she was eleven years old, Boo-Mary Mullins had done all three.

Breaking rules one and two was easy. Her Pa made corn liquor, which was readily accessible, and her Ma had a box in her closet full of pictures of men’s private parts.

Because of the monster that lived in Lake Babba Wabba, going fishing was a much harder rule to break. Not only for minors. For anyone. And to avoid any more gruesome deaths, every entryway to the lake had been blocked off for years. But that never stopped people from sneaking in and trying to catch the killer fish. And it certainly didn’t stop Boo-Mary Mullins.

“I ain’t gonna be the person that brags about the one that got away,” she’d say. “Instead, I want to be remembered as the girl who fed all the poor folk in Freefall County with the giant catch I reeled in. Maybe even have a statue made of me standing right next to the Goliath I slain.”

But Boo-Mary Mullins knew it was all talk until she could figure out a way to acquire the special bait she felt she needed to get the deed done. And that bait? The feet from the fresh corpse of a man.

No other fisherman had ever used a man’s foot as bait, but it made perfect sense to Boo-Mary. Every single person killed by the giant fish monster was a man. And each one of them was found with their feet ripped right out of their leg bone – all the while the rest of their bodies lay untouched, drained of every ounce of blood.

“That giant fish must have a foot fetish,” said Boo-Mary. “And I’m gonna use its obsession to lure that beast to its death. If a man’s foot is what it craves, a man’s foot is what it’s gonna get – right before I kill it. Now if I can just figure out how to get my hands on a foot.” 

There was only one person in Freefall County that had seen the giant fish monster and lived to tell. And that was Boo-Mary’s Pa, the moonshiner, Scooter-Mac Mullins. And he took great pleasure in describing the beast.

“It’s more like a dragon than a fish,” he’d say. “A two-headed one. With two long necks. One of the heads has one bright green eye, and the eye on the other head is smiley-face yellow. And don’t stare too long into its mixed-matched eyeballs cause they’re hypnotic and will subdue you without a fight. And when that happens, the two heads on that beast will smile, cause it knows … It’s feedin time.”

As much as Scooter-Mac enjoyed describing the creature, he relished more the retelling of his near escape from the clutches of the giant fish monster. And while the size of the beast grew with each telling, Boo-Mary never tired of hearing the story.

“The day started average normal,” he’d begin. “I was brewin’ another batch of firewater when my cousin, Canker Sore Clyde, stopped by to say he had a sure-fire way to catch the monster in the lake.

“He had just caught a walleye – fourteen-footer, and that’s when I spied the glow of a light bulb inside my cousin’s eyes. It’s a no-brainer to use a big fish to catch a bigger one, but Canker Sore Clyde had the grand idea to rig that bait with a loaded gun stuffed inside its mouth. That way, when the fish monster bites down on the walleye, the gun goes off and the giant fish kills itself with a load of buckshot to the head. Of course, that was before we knew it had a second head.

“Instead of a fishing pole, we used a chain and wired that loaded walleye onto the end of it. We stayed on shore figuring if something went wrong we could run, ‘stead of being stuck in a boat in the middle of a lake with an angry fish monster.

“We didn’t have to wait more ‘n ten minutes before we saw the moving shadow in the water. The giant creature was approaching. And then we heard it – the muffled sound of a firearm going off underwater inside the mouth of a walleye with a loaded gun inside it. 

“And then nothing. Followed by Hell.

“That two-headed thing stood up out of the water like Big Foot with fins, only twenty feet taller, sporting no evidence whatsoever that the loaded gun inside the walleye did any damage.

“That’s when I saw them. Snakes. But they weren’t snakes. They was tongues. Bright red lickers slithering out of the open mouths of that two-headed thing. And they was serious about eating. Us.

“I ran, thinking my cousin was right with me. He weren’t. Ole Canker Sore Clyde was already caught up in the wonder of them two-colored hypnotic eyeballs bulging out of the dual heads of that giant fish. The bright green one on the left. Smiley-face yellow on the right. My poor cousin was under the spell of the beast and all he could do was stand there in a trance and wait for that monster to fill its belly with his two boots and the feet inside of them.

“By this time both tongues were wrapped tightly around his ankles. I couldn’t watch no more. And just as I looked away I found myself confronted by the ungodly loud sound of an apple getting bit into. But it weren’t no apple. It was both my cousin’s feet being ripped right out of his body.

“I looked up and saw them two giant fish heads feeding each other. Each tongue placing one of my cousin’s torn off feet inside the other’s mouth – like a bride and groom sharing cake on their honeymoon day. Then the giant fish monster washed down Canker Sore Clyde’s filthy flat feet with all the blood it sucked out of his carcass, leaving nothing but a footless dried-out body for the vultures to feast on.”

At that point in the story, Scooter-Mac would usually become too emotional to continue. And each time, Boo-Mary would comfort her Pa with a loving squeeze of his shoulder. She never said a word but thought many. It’s alright, Pa. Someday I’m gonna kill that thing.

The only person who knew of Boo-Mary’s dream to catch the foot-eating giant fish was her best friend, Day-Spring Pettigrew. Being the only black girl at Robert E. Lee Grade School, Day-Spring felt somewhat of an outsider and didn’t trust anyone with skin lighter than hers.

Except Boo-Mary Mullins.

Boo-Mary didn’t see Day-Spring as a black girl, but rather, just a girl. And the two became inseparable throughout grade school and beyond.

One time, climbing a big tree with Boo-Mary outside the Mullins home, Day-Spring blurted out, “I believe we get along so well because you and me is both tomboys.”

“I ain’t a tomboy,” said Boo-Mary. “I’m a lesbian.”

“Girl, how do you know you’re a lesbian? You ain’t never even kissed a boy.”

That’s when Boo-Mary took Day-Spring upstairs and showed her the box her Ma kept in the closet with all those pictures of male private parts. 

After taking one look at all them ugly stick figures staring up at her from the faded photo paper, Day-Spring proclaimed, “Well, I might just be a lesbian too.”

And through their middle school years, when either one of them developed a hankering for some boy, they’d accompany each other back to the box in Ma Mullins’ closet and take a closer look at what their future might entail. And after carefully studying the pictures of all those male private parts, it wouldn’t take long for them both to announce, “I’m stayin’ gay.”

Being Day-Spring was the only person Boo-Mary talked to about the giant fish monster, it was only natural they spent hours each week devising a plan to get a man’s feet for bait – but always ended up back at square one.

When they each turned sixteen and needed jobs, the idea hit them.

“We can be candy stripers at the hospital,” said Boo-Mary. “That way we’ll have information on all the sick men and know when one of them is about to experience the death rattle.”

“Then what?” said Day-Spring. “We still have to figure out a way to cut off their feet without anyone noticing.”

“Let’s get the jobs first and worry about the feet later.”

The two agreed, and that’s what they did. They both got hired on at the hospital, but only Boo-Mary got a candy striper position. Day-Spring was assigned to the janitorial staff.

“It’s because of my black skin,” she said. “But I ain’t gonna let that trouble me. As janitor, I’ll have access to every room in that hospital – including the morgue. And there’ll be all sorts of dead men’s feet in there to pick from.”

And Day-Spring was right. But once she was able to sneak Boo-Mary into the morgue with some borrowed surgical tools hidden in the bottom of a mop bucket, they both decided there was no way to cut off a pair of feet and not have the remaining body go unnoticed.

The girls only had a couple of days of despair, though, for shortly after their disappointment in the morgue, they heard the news of a man in the hospital who was about to have both of his feet amputated.

“I’ll find out the date,” said Boo-Mary. “Then you and me is gonna make sure we both working that day. You got access to the medical waste, don’t you?”

“I do,” said Day-Spring. “Last Fourth of July I was the one that got to carry all them blown-off hands and fingers to the incinerator. If you can tell me when the feet removal’s gonna happen, I’ll make sure I’m the one on burn duty that night. And instead of feeding the ash tray, I’ll stash one foot in my lunch box, and the other in yours.”

“Then off to Lake Babba Wabba,” agreed  Boo-Mary, “to catch the giant fish monster.”

One week later, while the person they knew only as gangrene man lay footless in the hospital recovery room, Boo-Mary, accompanied by Day-Spring, were on the beach of Lake Babba Wabba preparing for their long-awaited fishing expedition.

“Let’s go over our plan one more time,” said Boo-Mary. “I carry the bait – one foot in my right hand and the other foot in my left. Then I start wading out into the lake holding them two foul things to attract the giant fish dragon. It won’t hurt me cause I’m a girl. It just wants the feet.”

“But it ain’t gonna get the feet,” said Day-Spring. “Cause I’m standing right behind you the whole time holding up this big-ass mirror.”

“Monster ain’t never seen himself before,” continued Boo-Mary, “and when it tries to hypnotize us with them two-colored eyeballs, that mirror will mesmerize the two-headed fish instead of us, and it’ll forget we’re even here. Then while you’re holding that mirror high up above your head, you and me is gonna slowly walk backwards to the shore.”

“The big fish will follow,” said Day-Spring, “cause it’s captivated by its own reflection – the bright green eyeball on one side, and smiley-face yellow on the other.”

“Won’t even notice until it’s too late that it can’t breathe without being in the water,” said Boo-Mary. “That’s when I pull out my slingshot and shoot out both of its eyes. Then I’ll take out my axe and cut off the head of the one with the bright green eyeball.”

“About then I ditch the mirror I’m holding,” said Day-Spring, “and pull out an axe of my own – beheading its other half.”

In the midst of their enthusiasm, the two girls abruptly stopped talking. As kids, their blueprint on killing the giant fish seemed picture-perfect. But they were teenagers now, and being out in the actual location, reality set in. Their plan was beginning to feel as far-fetched as the story of the monster itself.

“All sounds kind of dumb when we say it out loud, don’t it?” said Boo-Mary.

“You thinking we should go home and rethink our plan of attack?”

“And waste them amputated feet? No. We’re here and we’re killing that fish. Remember, we’re girls. We’ll be safe. I think.”

They both agreed to linger in the area until dark, cause anyone that’s ever heard a big fish story knows the night is when they traditionally bite. To pass the time, they walked the long beach in silence, occasionally breaking the quiet with nervous small talk.

“I keep wanting to open up these lunch boxes and pull out a cupcake,” said Day-Spring. “Then I remember there’s cut-off feet inside. I may have put my own foot in my mouth a time or two, but I draw the line when it’s somebody else’s.”

“Shh,” said Boo-Mary.

“What?”

Boo-Mary pulled out her flashlight and shined the beam ten feet in front of her.

“We’re too late,” she said. “The giant fish dragon has already had its supper.”

Then Day-Spring saw it too – the lifeless body of a man, blood gushing from the pant legs where his feet once were.

“We must have scared the fish monster away,” said Boo-Mary. “Otherwise it would have drank all his blood. And as you can see, there’s quite a bit of it left flowing out of those two holes in that dead man’s legs.”

“What do we do?”

“We wait,” said Boo-Mary. “The beast must be thirsty. I know if I’d just been interrupted from a meal consisting of two feet, I’d come back to wash them bones down.”

“Girl, that’s what the lake is for!”

“No, Day-Spring. You’ve heard the stories. The giant fish drinks blood.”

They stopped talking as the sound of footsteps crept up behind them.

“Better listen to her,” came a voice so cocky it had to be a man’s.

The two girls turned and Boo-Mary shined the flashlight in the direction of the voice. It was her Pa, Scooter-Mac Mullins. And she could tell by his unsteady stagger that he’d been drinking.

“What are you doing here, Pa?”

“I got the same question for you. You know this is no place for young ladies.”

“Monster ain’t never killed a girl, Pa. You said so yourself. So I’d say this is no place for you.”

Scooter-Mac started to laugh. And the more he tried to stop himself, the more out-of-control his giggling got. But it didn’t last long, as his drunken snicker turned into an evil sneer, face lit by the beam of Boo-Mary’s flashlight.

“If you’re here to see the giant fish,” he said. “Well … you looking right at it. I’m a darn good storyteller, don’t ya think? Either that, or we is living in the most gullible county in the U S of A. Now do your old Pa a favor and take that flashlight of yours and aim it back toward that dead man.”

“Why?”

“Just do it. I ain’t wanting to kill you and your friend, but I will if I have to.”

Boo-Mary shined her flashlight on the footless legs of the dead stranger on the beach.

“Higher,” said her Pa. “On his belt.”

Boo-Mary obeyed, aiming the light directly on the waist of the body.

Scooter-Mac stepped into the spotlight, and with one swift yank, pulled the dead man’s pants down, revealing the private parts of the footless man.

“The only reason I came back to my crime scene,” he slurred, “was because I had left my camera in the car.”

Then he snapped the picture. The three of them waited in a stalled silence as the Polaroid loudly whined and hummed as it created its image. He shook the photo dry before handing it to his daughter.

“There’s a box in your Ma’s closet,” he said. “Add this picture to it. One of these days she’ll learn.”

“Learn what?”

“You got a smart mouth, girl. Like your Ma. You probably got a roving eye too. I saw her, the way she looks at other men, wishing she was with them instead of me. And every time I catch her thinking them slutty thoughts, I make sure I get to know the man she was yearning for … and then I take him fishing.”

“You got Ma all wrong, Pa. Why she ain’t never even leave the house.”

“I know what I know, Boo-Mary, so shut your teeth.” Then he smiled, burped, staggered. “Now which one of you girls wants to lose their feet first?”

“Mr. Mullins,” said Day-Spring. “Before you commence any more foot chopping. May I ask a question?”

Scooter-Mac looked at the two girls – his drunken vision seeing four. “Ask me anything you like, Brown Sugar.” 

“Okay.” said Day-Spring. “What do you do with all them feet?”

“I’m a moonshiner,” he said. “And every brewer of hooch has a secret ingredient – one that gives the white lightning a touch of the nasty. Meaning, them feet put the rot … in rotgut. Now in moonshining, I prefer a man’s foot to a woman’s. It’s fouler. But I’ve been meaning to experiment with the opposite sex lately and I appear to be standing in front of the perfect specimens. I think I’ll call this next batch … Corn Liquor Light.”

“You drunk, Pa,” said Boo-Mary. “And you ain’t even got no axe on you.”

“Don’t need one, dumbass. Remember that old bear trap I got hanging in the shed?”

“Yeah, but it don’t even work.”

A grin eased onto Scooter-Mac’s face, which soon turned into an I got you laugh. Then he reached into a bag he had strapped across his back and pulled out the rusty bear trap they were talking about.

“You right,” he said, as he sat down on a log. “The trap is broken, but it still gets the job done. See, I place it out here in the dark. Then when me and one of your Ma’s fantasy men come out here to catch the make-believe fish monster, I just lead him toward that open bear trap.”

As Scooter-Mac explained his crime, the more animated he became, immersing himself in the story, completely forgetting the fact he was running on liquor. And as he got to the part where the helpless victim steps on the trap, he drunkenly placed his own foot inside it, only realizing what he’d done when it clamped shut, digging its rusty blades deep inside his ankle. “HOLY DAB NAB! I done gone and done it now.”

In a panic he abruptly tried to stand, but with one foot stuck up inside the broken bear trap, he fell to the ground. As Boo-Mary bent down to help him, he grabbed her around the throat – his fingernails digging into the back of her neck.

“I could kill you with my bare …”

But before he even finished the sentence, Day-Spring had pulled out her axe. “You even try Mr. Mullins, and I’ll plant this hatchet inside your forehead.”

Defeated, he released the grip on his daughter’s throat and frantically attempted to pull apart the trap with his bare hands.

“Here Pa,” said Boo-Mary. “Let me help you get that off your foot.”

“Damn thing’s broke, remember? Trap won’t pull apart if there’s something in it. Only way to get this contraption sprung is to rub the sharp blades together back and forth across the ankle, and by the time it springs open, the dab blasted trap will have already chewed off the foot. Just ask Canker Sore Clyde and all those other footless flesh seekers.”

“What can I do, Pa?”

“I see you got your Ma’s stupid gene. How many times I have to tell you, ain’t nothing we can do. My foot is nearly gone, and I’m about to join it. Best thing now is to get this over with quick.”

He rubbed the blades of the bear trap together in a grinding motion, with each excruciating cut of the bone releasing at least three screeches of “DAB NAB!” from his mouth.

The alcohol he’d been consuming all day didn’t help the pain, but did ease him into the rhythm of a chewing motion as he rubbed the jaws of the bear trap back and forth, slicing through skin, then bone, before the rusty blades of the trap gnawed off his foot, which then sprung the old contraption back to its open position. 

Exhausted, Scooter-Mac winked at his daughter. “The giant fish monster did that,” he said. “Feeling kind of faint. Now if you’ll forgive your old Pa for wanting to kill you, I could use some help removing the other foot. It’ll be quicker in the long run.”

“You sure, Pa?”

“As sure as I am that you’ve been a good daughter. Just … DO IT!”

Boo-Mary picked up her father’s other leg. “I’m sorry, Pa.” Then she activated the bear trap by placing his remaining foot inside it.

“TRIPLE HOLY DAB NAB!”

And joining together their pairs of hands, the two girls methodically grinded the trap blade back and forth across his ankle to the tune of Scooter-Mac screaming, “I’LL KILL YOU BOTH!” until the sound of the freshly released flow of blood replaced the noise of cutting bone, seconds before Scooter-Mac’s other foot joined his previously detached one on the ground.

“You know it might have been faster if I’d just used my axe,” said Day-Spring.

“Didn’t think of it,” said Boo-Mary. 

His body twitched before drifting from agony to calm. To limp.

“Is he …” 

Scooter-Mac opened his eyes, answering the question. And they remained open confirming the answer.

In the glow of the flashlight, the girls watched the remaining blood leave Scooter-Mac’s legs and dissolve into the sand of the beach. Without a spoken word, they dragged his drained body and placed it next to the other footless man on the lakeshore.

“I guess it’s back to the hospital incinerator,” said Boo-Mary, “and return them gangrene-filled amputated feet we stole. There room in those lunch boxes for two more?”

“I’ll make your Pa’s feet fit. You okay?”

“I think so.”

“I feel like we should hug, or something,” said Day-Spring. “You still a lesbian?”

“Well, having recently just seen a man’s private parts up-close in person, I’m pretty sure I still am. What about you?”

“Being I’m the one that said we should hug, I’d have to say … maybe probably.”

The two girls embraced. Awkwardly. Then, without letting each other go, they walked hand in hand down the path leading away from Lake Babba Wabba.

Once in town, Boo-Mary Mullins would have to explain the death of her Pa, Scooter-Mac, as well as the other dead footless man lying on the shore next to him. And along with her partner, Day-Spring Pettigrew, they would prepare for the one thing they swore they’d never do – tell the tall tale … of the big fish that got away.