@@ Can you write a little story that includes these phrases?

Question:1. OMG.... Tell me that is not BIGFOOT.
2. But you told me we had a full tank.
3. Well, here we are; In the middle of ...NOWHERE!
4. Settle down? Are you kidding?
5. I want my mommy.
6. We are in SUCH deep yogurt.

BONUS PHRASE: Are you trying to give me a heart attack?

Answers:
"Oh, my god... Tell me that is not BIGFOOT!" The small, dapper lawyer stepped hastily behind me as an unearthly howl echoed down the heavily forested Wisconsin hillside. Clearly wilderness survival hadn't been covered in law school.

"It's okay, Mr. Brooks. It's just a wolf." He didn't look noticably relieved. "I'll get the generator started and you'll feel better when the cabin has lights, water and electricity. I just hope there's enough propane to last until we find my uncle's will."

"But you told me we had a full tank. Surely that's enough for the night and tomorrow. I'm sure we can work though all the relevent documents in that amount of time." I nodded, but he hadn't seen the papers filling the cabin. My deceased uncle had been a most avid packrat when it can to anything paper.

I went around the back of the cabin and entered a small shed containing the generator. Soon the quiet hum of it's motor brought the soothing touch of civilization to the lawyer's shattered nerves. I found him standing on the front porch looking around curiously. "Well, here we are; in the middle of nowhere!"

"If you spent much time in the mountains you'd come to love the peace and stillness. I bet you'd want to move your practice to Odell and settle down here." I brought the bags up from the jeep tossed them into the living room. Flipping a switch near the door brought bright light flooding out the cabin's windows.

"Settle down? Are you kidding? Here? Besides, a town of 200 people wouldn't provide enough clients to sustain a decent law practice."

"If you can locate my uncle's will, you'll have enough business from me alone to keep you going. He owned stocks and properties all over the country. I'm a fishing guide, not a business man." I strode to a side room and flung open the door. "Here's his study." A few sheets of paper drifted out onto the floor.

Mr. Brooks, one of the finest business lawyers in the country peeped into the room and staggered back. Slapping a hand to his forehead he gasped, "I want my mommy! We are in SUCH deep yougurt!" I couldn't blame him for his odd response. The room was filled with stacks and stacks or paper rising up to as high as six feet in some places, covering the floor and leaving small trails through which one might navigate, if they were skinny enough.

"I'll make some coffee while you look around." He was the expert. I left him to it.

He proved far more enthusiastic about sorting old bills and newspapers than he had been about the joys of nature. When I went to bed at 1 A.M. he was still sorting away. A scream awoke me out of a sound sleep.

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" he ignored my question, and collapsing from his chair to the floor, began crawling to the doorway. It took a long time, plus a couple of straight scotches, to get the story out of him. . He'd been reading though a 1943 Quo Warranto Writ involving my uncle's dispute over a hunting license. Hearing a rustling of the papers nearby, he'd glanced up to see if the window was open, causing a breeze. It hadn't been. Still the paper's around him shuffled, and began to move. He'd been frozen in horror as one of the piles of old documents began to rise up together slowly forming into the rough outline of a man.

This man; a man assembled out of little scraps of receipts and newspaper clippings, walked past his frozen figure and stretching out it's rustling arms, lifted a dusty moosehead on a large wooden plaque from the wall to reveal a safe. Parchment fingers turned the dial and the safe door swung open. Turning to the nearly prostrate lawyer, the paper man blinked paper eyes and pointed one arm toward the safe. Then starting at the fingers the arm began to scatter like falling leaves, and slowly the figure fell back to it's original pieces, papers scattering about until only a loose, disorganized pile was left. Whatever force had held them together had fled, it's mission accomplished. If you believe the lawyer's story, or course. My uncle's will was in the safe. But perhaps the small man merely sleep walked and stumbling over the piles of papers, scattered them around, and opened the safe himself, in his sleep.

Mr. Brooks is still my lawyer, but I have to go to the city when I want to talk to him. He doesn't care for the wilderness.
as the car slowed to a stop my dad looked out of his window and said " we are in Such deep yogurt". at the same time my mom was waking up from a little nap looks out of her window and sees something out of the corner of her eye and says " OMG.. tell me that is not BigFoot". She then looked over at my dad and told him " But you told me we had a full tank". My sister then woke up becuase of all the yelling, and yelled at me her own response " Well, here we are; in the middle of... Nowhere". With my father being the mature one he told my mother to relax. " Settle down" Are you kidding" was here response. My dad then just screamed " I want my mommy"

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