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Thag Go Grunka Gathering!

By on August 5, 2009 in Skwibby fiction, Thag

Barley under prehistoric blue skiesEveryone at the Grunka Gathering was in good spirits, except Thag.

Every fifth or sixth summer, depending on the position of the stars, all of the Grunka clans would gather and share their stories, swap items (sometimes mates too) and have a bit of a prehistoric party.

It was a grand affair, and luckily for Thag’s tribe, the Thunka Grunkas, they only had to travel five or six days to join in the festivities.

But Thag was not having as much fun as he hoped. First of all, nobody was willing to swap for Onga, despite her beauty and physical charms. Her affair with the Thunka Grunka shaman, Weasel-Scratch-Face-Brother, had become somewhat of a Grunka legend, and nobody wanted that kind of trouble. (Even though there were lots of mates willing to be swapped to Thag, despite his lack of physical beauty and charm. His cleverness as a hunter, and even more importantly, as an avant-garde cave painter was also something of a legend.)

Worse than all of this though, was the new respect shamans had for Weasel-Scratch-Face Brother. They were all quite taken with the idea that there were supernatural beings who controlled the element, and that only they had the magic to communicate with them. In fact, they had spent most of the Gathering eating mushrooms that made them act quite strange, and coming up with a list of these new “gods”.

Thag had taken to heckling them during these psychedelic meetings.

“Where god? Thag see no god. Show Thag god!” he demanded. Eventually the shamans had had enough and the Grunka elders told Thag to desist.

Then the Drunka Grunkas arrived to the Gathering with a new invention they were very excited about sharing with the clan.

“What be?” Thag asked his colleague, the leader of the hunters from the Drunka tribe, Barga.

“We drop barley in water, let sit sun. Good. Try. Make you feel all squiffy.”

Thag took the proffered skin, filled with this new drink Barga and his tribe had invented. It WAS good. A bit bitter, but there was something nice about it. And what was that delightful feeling in his head?

Suddenly, the shamans and their invisible gods didn’t seem so important.

“You show Thag how make? What called?” he asked Barga.

Barga nodded. “We show all Grunkas how make. We call beer.”

Barley and blue sky by illum123. More things that will make you feel squiffy can be found at humor-blogs.com and Alltop. Originally published in 2006.

Thag not center universe!

By on August 4, 2009 in Skwibby fiction, Thag

Thag and picture of galaxyThe winter had been especially severe, and as Thag had predicted, the clan didn’t have enough food to survive it comfortably.

To the Shaman, Weasel-Scratch-Face-Brother, this had been an opportunity to blame Thag.

“The Sky God is angry with us for putting Thag on this council,” he told the assembled Elder’s Council, which was meeting to discuss how to deal with the food shortage.

A few nodded their heads, while others just looked worried. Thag looked bored. But really he was just angry. The long winter would not have been a problem if they’d had a successful hunting season before it. But they hadn’t, because the Council made one of the Elder’s sons, Dubyag, the leader of the hunters. Many hunters had been killed by the reckless and idiotic leadership of Dubyag (famous for getting kicked in the head by a wooly rhino). The result had been a minor revolt within the Thunka Grunka clan. The Elder who’d pushed for his son to be leader was exiled (and presumably dead in the harsh winter).

Thag had been forced to take back his mate, Onga, and he’d been made the leader of the hunters again. He now had to sit on the Elder’s Council; and if listening to the endless disputes and debates was not bad enough, he had to sit next to the Shaman, Weasel-Scratch-Face-Brother.

The phallus-with-a-face shaman had been a thorn in Thag’s side ever since he stole Onga away from him the previous year. He was frustrated by how the council continued to listen to Weasel’s insanities.

If nature was their greatest challenge, Thag thought the Shaman was the tribe’s greatest enemy.

“We must sacrifice Thag to the Sky Gods and that will appease them.”

“Sacrifice? What is sacrifice?” one of the most ancient Elders, Methusalag asked.

“We will take him to the top of the mountain, and there tie him to the Earth, so the Sky God can take Thag. This will appease the Sky God.”

“But Thag is our most experienced hunter,” Methusalag said. “How this help the Clan? We need him for hunting, now that the passes are clearing of snow. He must take the hunters out for early hunt. Many will die if he does not.”

“Sky God will continue to be angry,” the Shaman argued. “We can make Dubyag the leader again.”

“How grok Sky God angry?” Thag said. “Maybe it Snow God. Or Wind God. Earth God. Maybe it Invisible God.”

A few of the Elders chuckled. It was well-known that Thag did not believe in the Shaman’s new theory of unseen gods that controlled their fate.

“See,” the Shaman said, “he makes all the gods angry when he talks so.”

“Thag not center universe!” Thag exploded. “If be gods, why they care about Thag? Why care Weasel? Why not help Dubyag if he so good for gods? Why let Dubyag get many hunters killed? Why gods care about Thunka Grunka at all?”

It was an excellent series of questions, and the Council nodded.

“Thag not center universe,” Methusalag agreed. “But in case Shaman right, he no longer be on Elders Council. Stay leader hunters.”

Thag beamed a smile at the old man, and said, “Methusalag grok much. He should Shaman be. Him know wisdom.”

Humor-blogs.com, Alltop also know wisdom. Funny wisdom. Originally published in 2006.

Thag do revolution!

By on August 3, 2009 in Odd Science, Thag

wooly rhino -- dubyag had never been especially bright, but he was much worse after it kicked him in the headSomething was rotten within the Thunka Glunka Clan, and the putrid stench swirled around the vortex that was Thag.

The previously unassuming Thag.

Thag was a competent hunter, a low-key leader, once a loving partner (before his mate Onga had left him for the clan’s shaman, Weasel-Scratch-Face-Brother) and a burgeoning artist.

It was Thag’s art that had caused the stench storm; in particular, a satirical painting showing how Dubyag — the leader imposed on the tribe’s hunters — had screwed the mammoth, so to speak. Thag just didn’t blame Dubyag, who was ambitious beyond his abilities. He blamed Bushenor, an influential Elder who had foisted the incompetent Dubyag on the hunters.

It had been a political decision that had caused the hunters dearly, and would, in turn, cause much hardship over the coming winter for the whole tribe. Some would die for lack of food. Just like the hunters who had met their demise in a poorly conceived hunt of a rutting (and enraged) wooly mammoth.

Since Thag’s painting had raised the issue, he was asked by the surviving hunters to speak to the Elders before a gathering of the tribe. Thag had reluctantly agreed, but he was nervous. Never before had he spoken to so many at once:

“Thag not like being center attraction,” he began, “but Thag speak must!”

The Elders were silent, though others of the Thunka Grunka Clan grumbled in the background.

“Elders make Dubyag leader of hunters. Dubyag not wise. Not Dubyag’s fault — him kicked in head by wooly rhino. Him bad leader of hunters. Some die. Mrogak learn fly when mammoth throw him from cliff. Not learn land. New Thunka Grunka with strange hairdo, Fonzag, get turned to jelly. Bad. Many hunters hurt. No meat to cure for winter. Many be hungry. Bad.”

Words were failing Thag quite seriously, but when he saw the others nodding their head — even some of the Elders — he plunged on: “all because Bushenor want me to take back Onga. All because phallus-with-ears shaman not want her any more. Bad. Not Thunka Grunka way. Thunka Grunka be not selfish!”

More grunting in agreement. It was true; for the clan to survive, everyone had to play their part. Everyone had to cooperate and sometimes, put their personal wants aside.

“Thag take Onga back, but only if Elders make him leader hunters. Only if Bushenor leave clan.”

Dead silence. It was a serious demand, for Bushenor was an old man. He would not live very long outside of the clan. But he had caused two hunters to die, and most of the others to be injured beyond the point where they could hunt big game. Many nodded when they saw the wisdom of punishing Bushenor, not his incompetent son, Dubyag.

And not a few took note that Thag did not ask for the shaman to leave, though much of this originated with his own selfishness around stealing Onga from Thag.

The Elders argued into the night, but finally agreed. Bushenor would leave the clan. But Thag would have to take Onga back, for the good of the tribe. And he would take Bushenor’s place on the council.

Both of which displeased Thag, but he acquiesced: “sometimes Thag have take one for team.”

Scientific explanation of why people need a push to cooperate. And these folks always play well with others. Originally published in 2006.

Thag sleep on it!

By on July 31, 2009 in Hinky History, Odd Science, Thag

Sleeping on itIt had finally happened. No, the Thunka Grunka Clan was not about to finally get rid of that walking meat stick, the shaman Weasel-Scratch-Face Brother. It was not nearly such good news.

His ex-mate, Onga, had finally got on the shaman’s nerves.

Onga had left Thag for the shaman nearly a season ago, and in a strange way, they had been good times for Thag. He’d become the leader of the hunters. He’d discovered art — in the form of cave painting — and this artistic flowering had garnered him even more respect. (And nookie.)

But now the shaman was demanding that Thag take Onga back. This was a problematic request. First of all, Onga was pretty sure that she didn’t want Thag back. (She had, after all, left Thag of her own accord, even after he did everything he could to make her happy.) Secondly, Thag was absolutely sure that he didn’t want Onga back, even if he had to admit that his dalliances with some of the eligible women of the tribe were not as sexually satisfying as his long-term relationship with Onga.

A further complication was that in the summer the Thunka Grunka Clan were going to the Gathering, a conclave of clans that only happened once every few years. This was an excellent time to procure a new mate, or if nothing else, really party down.

On the other hand, Onga’s father, Bushenior, was one of the Elders, and he carried a lot of sway with the tribe. Things might get uncomfortable if the Elder decided to take a stand against Thag. There was already talk that he’d have the hunters accept his son Dubyag as the new leader of the hunters. This would be a disaster, as Dubyag was a cretin even before he got kicked in the head by a wooly rhino. So, there was the other hunters to consider — would he consign them to poor leadership, injury and possibly death, just because he didn’t want Onga back?

It made Thag’s head hurt, and there was no easy way to make the decision. Even his art was suffering, he noted, as the horse he was trying to draw ended up having five legs.

He would sleep on it. Ever since he was little, he always made better decisions after a good night’s sleep.

But first, perhaps that nubile Blodja would like to go for another “walk” in the forest.

Did you know that it was best to sleeping on it for making the best of complex decisions? Sleeping by fatal cleopatra. And humor-blogs.com is anything but sleepy. Alltop neither. Originally published 2006.

Thag not like politcs!

By on July 29, 2009 in Skwibby fiction, Thag

wooly mammoth

Thag had made his decision — he was not taking Onga back, even if the shaman, Weasel-Scratch-Face-Brother, insisted. Thag could see why Weasel wanted him to take her back; Onga was driving the shaman crazy.

The flesh-pole with ears shaman insisted. And Thag refused.

Weasel then lobbied Onga’s father, Bushenior to force Thag to take her back. The Elder was fairly influential within the tribe, and he told Thag that if he did not take Onga back, he would install his son, Dubyag, as the new leader of the hunters over Thag.

“Dubyag not good hunter,” Thag said.

“Maybe,” Bushenior said, “but he’s my son, and Onga is my daughter. I can convince the other Elders that I am right.”

“What of hunters?” Thag asked. “Bad for hunters Dubyag lead them. He get kicked in head by wooly rhino. Other hunters get kicked in head. Bad for hunters.”

“I don’t care if it’s bad for the hunters. It will make you do what I want,” Bushenior said.

“Bad for tribe,” Thag said quietly.

“Only in the short term. You will buckle under.”

It ran against every instinct he had, but Thag said: “Elder can go have grunties with cave lion.”

And so Thag was relieved of his position as lead hunter, but not after inconsiderable arm twisting by Onga’s father. As Thag had predicted, the first expedition led by Dubyag was a disaster.

In a classic case of over-ambition, the brain-damaged Dubyag convinced the other hunters they should take down a big male mammoth. During rutting season. Fonzag, the newly adopted Thunka Grunka and mate to the nubile Vunga (half-daughter of the shaman), was well-liked amongst the hunters, despite his adoptive status and unusual approach to hair grooming (he spiked it with tree resin gel); Fonzag was himself almost turned into a kind of gel by the back left foot of the enraged mammoth, escaping only because of his diminutive size. His buddy, Malphag, was not quite as lucky, as the mammoth sat on him.

“Heyyyy, don’t sit on Malphy!”

Mrogak, the brother of Mrog (who had been killed by a cave lion the year before), discovered the wonders of flight, as the mammoth picked him up with his trunk, and flung him from the edge of the cliff they had hoped to drive the mammoth over. Mrogak, unfortunately, was not as excited by the wonders of landing.

Other hunters suffered some broken bones, bruises, and Bushenior’s other idiot son, Bejag, somehow managed to stab himself with his own spear. He would live. In shame.

Dubyag was leading from the rear, and was the only hunter not hurt, except for Thag, who had forseen the disaster, and got behind a rock big enough to be protected from the rampaging mammoth. (At least a few of the other hunters had followed his example.)

When they finally got the wounded back to the cave, and the dead buried, Thag did his first painting of humans.

It showed a wooly mammoth copulating with Dubyag, while his father watched, the Elder’s head just barely visible over the enormous pile of droppings he was buried under.

Original mammoth pic by Hughes. Mammoth amounts of dung here. Here too. Originally published in 2006.

Thag not grok god!

By on July 27, 2009 in Odd Science, Parody & Satire, Thag

Rainclouds with rainThe natural world was not a mystery — when it rained, they got wet. If they were in the mountains, rain was dangerous because it would swell the streams, making them difficult or impossible to cross. Rain made hunting more difficult, as it tamped down the signs of prey.

For Thag, these things were evident, not a cause of mystery. They were cause and effect.

But for others in the Thunka Grunka Clan, rain was one of a thousand mysteries that only their shaman, Weasel-Scratch-Face-Brother, could guide them through, as he did that morning, while a deluge teemed outside the cave.

“So where does the rain come from,” the shaman asked. It was a rhetorical question — even Dubyag, the unfortunate hunter who had been kicked in the head by an enraged wooly rhino knew that.

“The rain,” Weasel-Scratch-Face-Brother paused for dramatic effect, “comes from the Sky God.”

Thag snorted. He could not help himself. “Come from sky. What be this god?” he asked the shaman, not at all rhetorically.

“A God is the Prime Force. The powerful being that causes such things as rain to happen. There are many Gods. Sky. Earth. Water –”

“So why Water God not make rain?” Thag asked.

There was a rustle in the assembled Thunka Grunkas. That WAS a good question. Why was rain from the Sky God, not the Water God?

“Because it comes from the sky,” the shaman answered patiently. Others nodded in understanding.

“What when rain come in face — from side?” Thag asked. All of the hunters knew this phenomenon, especially when they made it out to the steppes, hunting the mammoth.

“It is only coming sideways because of the Wind God,” Weasel said. He was getting upset. “It still falls from the Sky God first.”

“So rain come from sky god, unless wind god make go sideways. Then take wind god. What when rain hit calm pond and bounce out of water? Then water god make that?”

Shaman nodded his head in agreement.

“So rain come from sky god, unless wind god, or water god make do something to rain? What else rain do?”

“It freezes sometimes,” a helpful Dubyag suggested.

“Oh, and it sometimes doesn’t hit the ground, even though you can see it falling,” another hunter said.

“So make cold god and earth god sometimes help rain,” Thag said as he counted fingers. “So sky, wind, water, earth, cold . . . five gods for rain. Maybe rain just rain.”

Everyone in the Thunka Grunka Clan laughed.

“No, you don’t understand,” the shaman said. “It is a mystery known only to the Thunka shaman.”

“Mystery is why listen to you. Rain come from somewhere. Must be simple answer. Better answer,” Thag said, pleased to have won this argument. “Let’s groom.”

The group seemed to think that was a good idea, and spent the rainy afternoon grooming one another. Even his estranged mate, Onga, joined him in the activity — the first time in many months.

Thag could hear the shaman’s teeth grinding above the din of the rain.

Details on How evolution found God. These folks grok comedy. Photo by Gabu-chan. Originally published 2006.