Tuesday, August 17, 2010


The evening is quite cold and dark as we join Monkalunk and Kraklehead on the plateau just outside their cave.

Monkalunk says, “Night feel like be real cold.”

Kraklehead looks up from his stick, “Cold. Not good. Me not like cold. Like warm.”

“Mm. Warm. Me like warm too,” Monkalunk says. “Why not SkyGod make warm now?”

Suddenly, a loud crack fills the air and an almost blinding streak of lightning strikes a bush about ten feet from where our caveguys are sitting. The bush roars into a flaming bonfire.

“Loud,” Kraklehead says. “Me not like loud. Me not like cold. Me like warm.”

Monkalunk slowly walks over to the burning bush. He stands in front of it for about 20 seconds. He runs back to Kraklehead.

“Warm!” Monkalunk shouts. “Fire warm. Fire good. Me like fire. Come Kraklehead. Come by warm.”

“Me like warm,” Kraklehead says, as he walks over to the burning bush with Monkalunk. “Mmmm. Warm good. Fire good.”

Monkalunk looks at Kraklehead and says, “Throw stick on fire.”

“No! My stick,” Kraklehead yells. “Not throw on fire. My stick. You throw other stick.”

The night grows colder and darker but our two caveguys are rather enjoying throwing other sticks on the fire and staying warm.

“Time go sleep,” Monkalunk says. “Come Kraklehead.”

“Okay. But me trade cold stick for warm stick to bring back to cave.” Kraklehead says, as he throws his stick into the fire and grabs a different stick. One burning red hot.

“AAAAAAAAAAAUGH!!” Kraklehead screams. “FIRE BURN. FIRE BAD. KILL FIRE NOW.” Kraklehead quickly sticks his blistering hand into a bucket of cold creek water. “Aaaaah. Cold good. Me like cold.”

Meanwhile, Monkalunk grabbed a fire extinguisher and put out the burning bush. (Yes, they had fire extinguisher’s back then. You know. Sort of. In a caveman-ish kind of way.) He walked over to his friend and asked him how his hand was feeling.

“Hand cold,” Kraklehead says. “Cold good. You kill fire?”

“Yes, fire dead,” Monkalunk says. “Fire hurt friend. Fire Bad. Me hate fire. How hand, now?”

“Hand still cold. Cold good. Me like cold. Me like sleep. Go sleep now.” Kraklehead says.

They walk into their cave, which is even darker and colder than the night has become. Shivering, they eventually fall asleep. For about three hours.

“Monkalunk,” Kraklehead says. “You sleep?”

“Not sleep now. What up?”

“Me cold. Me not like cold. Me like warm.” Kraklehead tells his friend. “Can you make SkyGod make fire come back?”

“Mmm. Fire warm. Fire good. Me like fire.”

Okay, so is there a moral to this story?

Ummmm, yes?

In fact, there are a few morals. But me only post story. You think moral. Moral good. You like moral.

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