Johnny And The Wendigo Poem by David Welch

Have I ever told you about my friend,
a mechanic by the name of John?
Oh, the countless stories that he can tell
of the hunting trips that he's been on.

He's taken down many a whitetail,
but most people would be intrigued to know
about the time that Johnny tussled with
and then ate a god-damned Wendigo!

It happened about ten years ago,
up north in Maine's ever-rolling green pines,
Johnny was up to bag himself a moose,
figured it would be one hell of a time.

But on his hunt he got turned all-around,
though he still won't admit he was lost,
soon he had eaten all his beef jerky,
leaving him starving in cold, northern frosts.

It was then in this desperate state
that a bizarre sight came to his eyes:
A beast that stood on two feet, like a man,
though it towered, at least ten feet high.

It had clawed hands, and the greyest of skin,
on its head huger antlers spread, upturned,
its muscles were ropy, not an ounce of fat,
canine teeth sat beneath eyes that burned.

"Wendigo, "Johnny said at the sight,
calling up on all his folk wisdom,
a monster that natives once greatly feared,
a beast born out of cannibalism.

Some say they were men who ate fellow man,
and were then cursed with madness, living death,
others said they were beasts, roaming around,
every hungry for more human flesh.

Johnny could see, even from a distance,
that this monster had never been a man,
as the beast salivated, Johnny brought up
the hunting rifle, right into his hand.

He felt his stomach gurgle, still empty,
then looked at the monster in his way,
Johnny said, "Mythical creature or not,
when you're hungry, a steak is a steak! "

He fired four shots, straight into it's chest,
turning grey skin into a smear of red,
the monster looked shocked, more than angry,
then collapsed to the ground and lay dead.

Johnny just shrugged, took out his Bowie knife,
and started carving off meat for a meal.
He built a fire and roasted back-strap,
it tasted strangely like pork, and like veal?

He ate until he could swallow no more,
since he knew not when he would find a trail,
even roasted more pieces to take along
for the hours when his strength might fail.

Before he left, he looked to the beast,
said, "Who would believe what happened here?
They'll all call me mad if I tell this tale,
unless I get myself a souvenir."

So he went to work with that same big blade,
then set about on a trail, rather long,
it was another day before he heard
old internal combustion's sweet song.

When he emerged other hunters came round,
said, "I see antlers, but that ain't a moose? "
So Johnny showed them the Wendigo's head,
and good lord what a fright was let loose!

Huge, manly men, all armed with big guns,
shrieked and ran off when they viewed the beast,
Johnny said, "Guys, there's no need to run!
I assure you, he is quite deceased! "

This all repeated when Johnny came home,
most were scared, but others cried it was fake.
Professors ran some tests on its DNA,
shook their heads, said, "There must be a mistake."

Eventually Johnny grew tired of them,
and returned to his job and his life,
he's got the Wendigo skull in his basement,
he'll even show you, if you ask real nice.

As for the creatures still lurking out there,
they have a new fear, and they should.
To this day Wendigos run for their lives
when they see Johnny walk into the woods.