Mr. Big’s Corner

“A World Champion in Hiding: My Life as the Greatest Player of Hide and Seek”

By Mister Big

I have a confession to make. Before my ill-fated presidential campaign, before my distinguished (and slightly disgraced) career as a journalist, and even before I graced the pages of Paramericana with my thunderous prose, I was something else. Something legendary. I was…the world’s greatest hide and seek champion.

Now, I know what you’re thinking—of course you’re good at hiding, Mister Big, you’re a Bigfoot. To that, I say: Exactly. But let’s not undermine my skills here. There’s a reason sightings of me are as rare as a unicorn at a tax audit. I’ve spent decades perfecting the craft, mastering the art of blending into the forest, of staying just out of frame when your blurry cameras are snapping away. Hide and seek is in my blood—like journalism and healthy, full-body hair.

But let me tell you, friends, it’s frustrating. You can be the best at something—the absolute best—and still, there are no professional opportunities, no championships, no trophies to mark your excellence. It’s as if the world doesn’t appreciate the sheer skill and dedication required to disappear without a trace.

In my prime, I could vanish into a thicket of trees faster than you could say “Sasquatch sighting.” My record of remaining unseen for 200 consecutive years? Still unbroken. I even beat the Loch Ness Monster in a match back in ’84. She’s good, don’t get me wrong, but water has its limits. Forests, mountains, even urban environments—I dominate them all.

But where’s my endorsement deal? Where’s my hide and seek World Cup? Where’s the recognition for a skill that, frankly, is unparalleled in the paranormal world?

Humans have leagues for everything. You’ve got professional frisbee players for crying out loud, and yet there’s not a single governing body for hide and seek. It’s insulting, really. The paranormal community has been sitting on a goldmine of untapped talent, and what do we get? Ridicule. Disbelief. Cryptid-themed cocktail napkins.

I’ve spoken to fellow paranormals—chupacabras, mothmen, even a couple of ghosts—and we all feel the same. We have skills, folks. But the professional world? Not interested. Humans are obsessed with the loud, the visible, the “in-your-face.” They don’t see the quiet mastery of being able to disappear so well that even satellite imagery comes up blank.

If there were a hide and seek league, I could have endorsements by now. “Mister Big: Champion of Discretion, Powered by Pinecones and Camouflage!” Instead, I’m here, pouring my heart out on this blog, underappreciated and (still) the reigning champion of a sport no one will recognize.

The irony is staggering. You spent years hunting me down, but when I want to be found—professionally speaking—you turn a blind eye. So here’s my challenge to you, humans: start a league. Make it official. Let the greatest hide and seek players in the world—cryptid and human alike—come together for a showdown that would rival the Olympics in pure tension.

Until then, I’ll keep honing my skills, waiting in the shadows for the day when the world finally catches up. And if you think you’ve got what it takes to find me? Good luck. I’ve been doing this for centuries.

Yours, perpetually hidden yet somehow always in plain sight,
Mister Big