I just want you to know that I didn’t really mean anything of it, right? Anything bad, I mean. You know?
So I was there and I was here and I was also most places. It’s an old habit, right? Easier to do that focus, let me tell you. But I was bored and by and by I started snooping around and looking at stuff. Rocks. Trees. A little fuzzy thing making little weebly noises under a broken tree.
Y’know. Stuff.
So I went down to that tree and because I was bored I picked it up and chucked it. And I said “Hey you! Go on and get up, huh? Why don’t you move yourself now, hmm?”
But it just sat there making weebly noises and I admit this did pain me some because I went to
Some Effort
for its benefit.
So I poked it for a while until it got more annoyed than scared and it tried to bite me well that didn’t work at all let me say to you. “Good job!” I said. “Now what’s eating ya, eh?”
“Not enough trees,” it mumbled and whimpered (and there was a bit of pout in there, I hate to say). “No more trees! The forests are all patchy and the plains are all bakey and the sky is on and off and on again with the rain year after year and it is SO HARD to find fruit oh no oh woe is us so hungry so hungry so hungry oh no no no.”
Now I am a compassionate person or whatever and I was moved truly deeply by this request, especially since the thing was depressed at the world rather than itself. That’s the sort of foresight that was rare in those days.
“C’mon, hey?” I told it. “Lemme show you a trick.”
So I took its paw and I pointed at the sky and we followed the circling birds ‘till we found the least-delicious parts of a big hairy thing that had run into something that wasn’t as big or hairy but sure as hell had a lot more pointy bits.
“Ick,” said the thing.
“Don’t give me ick now,” I admonished it. “You eat lizards. You eat bugs.”
“But not something this big!” But it was licking its little lips and I could see the so hungry so hungry turning around inside that little melon.
“Well,” I said, and I stretched myself real casual and started to walk off, “first times, eh? Go for it.”
So I left it there. Because I didn’t want to get all clingy, right? Nobody wants that.
Now by and by I got bored again which is my own fault because really there’s no excuse for that sort of behavior in a world as big and bold and bald as this one that we’re all in. But I did. So sue me.
So I started paying attention to little things and hey now WOAH what did I see but a really big fuzzy thing!
Well, sort of fuzzy. It was pretty bald these days, and it was one big monkey now. And it was walking all funny, up-and-down like a toy soldier.
“Heya,” I said to it (oh it jumped alright). “How’s you going?”
“Hungry,” it muttered to itself.
“Again?”
It was kicking at the dirt with its big, stubby toes. That looked pretty satisfying so I joined in and between the two of us we raised quite a damned dust cloud before we got tired and flopped over on our backs to stare at the sun.
“Look,” I said. “You know how to feed yourself, right? Go find a dead thing.”
“But they’re so gristly,” it whined. What a big, unattractive whine. It was real impressive. Must’ve been because of that nice new nose it had on its face. No little pick-pocked noseholes right into the skull, oh no me no. This thing had sinuses upon sinuses. “And they’re cold! And the bones have all the marrow cracked out and it makes me mad enough to split flint!”
Which it did. It picked up a flint and it smacked it into another flint and BAM razors fly everywhere hoo-wee that’s how I got this little scar right here. Above my ear.
“Sorry,” it said.
“All good,” I told it. “You’ve given me an idea and I’m gonna give it back. C’mere, huh?”
Well it was nervous but I took its hand and I put the flint in that hand and with my OTHER hand I gripped up that nice fine dustcloud we’d kicked up. Then we went on and went roamaround, walkdown, all the way through the valley until we up and surprised a little family of gazelles.
“Stick ‘em,” I said. And I made that flint hand into a fist and pointed it at the nearest gazelle, which was running the wrong way right into our faces.
Splash, piss-hot on the dust. What a pretty mess of red that made!
“Now that’s a trick I think you’ll say, yeah?” I said.
“Yeah,” agreed the monkey.
It hit the gazelle again. Then again. And again. And at some point I got bored and wandered off, but I had faith it’d work out. Right? I mean, it was already trying to carve out the meaty parts to carry ‘em back home, in case someone nosy with big teeth showed up. That’s foresight, and that was rare in those days.
Things got funny after that. I’d left that place and those monkeys alone for five minutes and WHAM BAM I nearly walked into them again! This time I wasn’t even paying attention you know I was just sort of killing time and unwinding and woosh bang slam wham they’re up my nose and through my face.
“Hey you!” I said. “What’re you doing here? Here’s a long way from there. There was back there. Where I met you before. You remember, right?”
It poked me in a pretty rude way with its stick, and I saw it’d stuck flint on it. Hoo-man, that’s clever. That’s what I said, that’s what I told it. “Hoo-man! That’s clever.” What a good name, too. Waaaayy better than monkey. Unless you’re a monkey.
“Yeah, sure, right, yeah,” said the hoo-man. “I’m clever. We’re all clever. And you know what being clever means, right?”
“Getting lazy,” I said.
“Damn straight. I’m so lazy I put my flint on a stick, and I made a springy thingy to throw those sticks even farther. I’m so lazy I made a tent so I wouldn’t have to dry my clothes. I’m so lazy I made a pelt off’ve my lunch instead of evolving one when it got nippy.”
“That’s some fine lazy, yeah,” I agreed. I was a little proud. And a little jealous. But mostly a little proud I think. “So what’s wrong?”
“Thing is,” it said slowly, “I think I’m too lazy to keep moving. It’s nice right here. Got some good eats. But y’know, you get bored just standing around. And that means kids. And that means less eats. And then you’ve gotta move. Sucks, right?”
“Yeah, right,” I said. And I was feeling generous and genius and I decided to share the latter by the former like SO and I said “c’mere, watch this.”
So it followed me and it watched as I did this: yanked some seeds off some real good eats and chucked them in the dirt and stomped dirt on them and POW WHAM BOOM KERBLEWY up POPPED a big old whack of good eats right fresh as roses.
I passed the hoo-man a few more handfuls of the seeds. “Get some water on there,” I said. “And then wait a while. And then have yourself some good eats and your kids too and don’t worry too much about having to move.” And so I walked off. Didn’t want to get too clingy.
Did glance back over my shoulder though and hey I saw that it was already setting up a few more of those seed-beds. All in a row, nice and tidy. So I figured it’d work out, with that sort of foresight. It was rare those days.
Now here’s where it gets funny: I looked back twice.
First time I saw what I told you I saw when I saw hey that it was already setting up a few more of those seed-beds. All in a row, nice and tidy.
Like that.
Second time was just right after that and WOAAAH all of a sudden there’s those hoo-mans everywhere and all over the place and man alive they are hungry, hungry, hungry. Strangest thing I ever saw anywhere. How’d that happen?
“Now what did you go and do now, you silly things of mine?” I asked them.
“Hungry, hungry, hungry, hungry, hungry, hungry, no no oh no we’re hungry,” they groaned.
I looked around and I could sort of get why. I mean, they must have gotten REALLY bored with all those good eats because woah, there were an awful lot of them. Not too many to feed yet, but they were getting there and to be honest a lot of them were sort of pigs and were really hogging the good eats. Just rude, really.
But I felt a bit bad, too. I mean, it wasn’t my fault what they did with my advice. Can’t blame someone for just giving advice. Not my fault. And I only looked back a moment later. And I looked back. And so it wasn’t my fault at all.
But still… man, so many of them. “Hungry, hungry, hungry,” they were all saying.
“I can see that,” I said. “Alright. Let’s try something here.”
So I took up a big handful of nitrogen, and I took up a big handful of machinery driven by petroleum-derived energy, and I took up a big handful of pesticide. And I sort of smeared it all together and I threw it all over the place where all those good eats were growing. WHAM. BLAM. WOOSH. Up comes sprouting ninety thousand million tonnes and tons and kilopounds of good eats.
“Dig in,” I said.
And lo and behold they pulled out their combine harvesters and their oil rigs and their forks and they did just that as I walked off.
That was just a moment ago, and I’m a bit scared to turn ‘round and look.
Still, I’m sure it’ll work out. Right?
I mean, with foresight.
But that’s rare these days.