Friday, 13 January 2017

Behind Every Caveman

This is, or might have been, the story of the world's first great inventor.

(22.49 Greenwich Meantime, UK. I've just discovered that this post has been sitting here for about four hours in a solid block of sans serif type, unformatted and all in caps. Goodness knows what happened. I shall now try to fix it. Apologies all round.)

23.15 Failed again. Put it down to Friday the 13th!

14.30, 17th: last try!

Behind every Caveman

When Wyzat the Inquisitive struck the first-ever spark off the first-ever flint, Mrs Wyzat was not impressed.
     'Listen! I work my fingernails off gathering nuts and berries, and what do you do? You sit in here banging stones together and burning the mammoth steaks for dinner. Are you listening to me? Where are you going now?'
     'I won't be long. Must get back to the drawing slate. Just had an idea.'
     'Another idea! Well, don't fill the cave full of smoke with this one. You're worse than that idiot who thinks he's an artist, painting dirty great animals all over people's caves faster than I can rub them off. Think yourself lucky you've got a cave-proud wife, not like that Mrs Ugg Lazybitch in three down. I haven't forgotten that you fixed up a pretty little sling thing to stop her oversize baby-feeders from wobbling about. And - don't think I didn't hear you offer to fit it for her.'
     'That was totally impersonal, my sweet. I'm a thinker, an inventor. I like to make things that other people haven't thought of.'
     'Well, make something useful for a change. The twins are getting too big to carry around. My back feels like I've been building bluestone henges all week. Why don't you make me a something - I don't know - something I can roll them around in?'
     'Roll?' pondered Wyzat, gazing at the full moon, 'Roll?'

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