A/N: There were more than a few instances in the movie where you just knew Harry was waaay smarter than he let on. In fact, I'm betting pretty much every aspect of his poor-primitive-lost-in-civilization behavior was just an elaborate farce. Hence, I've composed this modest ficlet. I personally don't feel it's great, but I'm not disappointed in it, either. Decide for yourselves whether it's any good.

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Disclaimer: I do not own Harry and the Hendersons, though I've always wanted to meet a sasquatch, even if he does wreck my house.

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Harry picked a deer tick from his son's fur and tossed it into the smokeless fire.

"So, are you going to explain where you've been," asked his wife, "and what you were doing with those Short People?"

"Their family name is Henderson," Harry responded, still grooming his child, "They accidentally hit me with their car and decided to take me to their home." He smirked. "They thought I was dead."

His wife stared at him, incredulous. "How in the world could they accidentally hit someone as big as you? And how could you not see them coming?"

"Guess the sun was in the driver's eyes. As to why I didn't look both ways, I was a bit preoccupied," he met the female's gaze solemnly, "I was being tracked by that Hunter."

"Him again?" Harry's wife huffed, "Never heard of anyone so obsessed! What's he trying to prove?"

Harry shrugged. "That we exist. Don't worry, he's not going to bother us anymore. We had a heart-to-heart and came to an understanding." He grinned, displaying white, flat teeth.

His wife narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "You didn't talk to him, did you?"

"Of course not!" He neglected to mention his casual Okay to George Henderson.

"So," his daughter spoke up, "all this time you were away, you were with that Short family?"

"The Hendersons, yes," he nodded his pointed head, "They were very kind, once they got over their initial shock. Even got them to alter certain aspects of their lives."

"Like what?" asked Harry's son, looking up at his father with curious eyes.

"Well, George Henderson, the patriarch, brought his family out to the woods every year to hunt and kill various animals." He grimaced at the unpleasant memories. "Their home was filled with preserved skins and corpses."

"Eew!" his son wrinkled his tiny nose in disgust. The other members of Harry's family shuddered at this barbaric practice.

"They won't do that anymore," Harry assured them, "Though I doubt I've managed to convince them to give up eating flesh."

"How difficult was it to maintain your guise?" asked his wife.

"Some moments were tougher than others, especially once I separated from the Hendersons and wandered around the community. I didn't dare drop out of character even when I was sure I was alone. Never knew when I might run into someone." Harry shook his head in amazement at the things he'd witnessed. "The Short People are everywhere."

"Well," his wife smiled, "I for one am glad you made it back. We almost had to leave without you." Harry wouldn't have been abandoned altogether, of course. A rescue party would have come for him, eventually.

"Sounds like you had a more interesting vacation than we did," said his envious daughter.

"Not one I'll soon forget," he agreed, then sighed, "Only wish I could've brought my imager."

"Well, that hardly would've maintained the illusion that you were just a simple man-ape," his wife chuckled. And, indeed, she was correct. It was the unwritten law of all those who chose to spend their vacations in the wilderness of Washington State, as the Short People called it, to never let on how technologically advanced they truly were. The primitive, furless people simply weren't ready for the idea of another sentient species, especially one as advanced as Harry's people. Better to playact as semi-intelligent primates to spare the Short People's sensitive egos until they had a chance to mature. The minor inconveniences of such a charade were more than worth the effort. The pleasures one derived from getting in touch with their ancient heritage were without compare; living off the land, communing with the many varied beasts of the forest, witnessing the stark beauty of the centuries-old trees. Yes, a camping trip there was always worthwhile.

The muted bellow of the night-klaxon echoed through the chamber; time for bed. Harry switched off the fire while his wife tucked their children into their sleep-pods. Throughout the massive passenger chamber, other families did the same. Harry stretched and yawned expansively, then lumbered over to the double sleep-pod where his wife already lay in wait. He crawled in beside her and hit the button; the lid of the sarcophagus-like pod lowered, enclosing the happy couple in its plush coziness. As the massive vessel swam through the fathomless stars towards home, Harry dreamt of his adventures on the lovely world of Earth and all the wondrous new friendships he'd made there.