Tag Archives | Lescaux

Thag grok cow!

By Mark A. Rayner on August 10, 2009 in Odd Science, Thag

Thag grok cow Thag’s sabbatical with the Drunka Grunka tribe was not as idyllic as he thought it was going to be, but on the whole, he was quite enjoying his stay.

First of all, the Drunka Grunkas had invented a delectable potage they called “beer” and it was good stuff. He’d already learned all he could about making it himself, and had even come up with the innovation of adding a plant to the mix that gave the “beer” an extra something. (The Drunka headman in charge of the beer called it “hops”.)

Then there was Twigla, who was beautiful and clearly was falling in love with Thag. Sure, she didn’t have the impressive bottom that the Drunka Grunkas valued so much in their women, but Thag was a Thunka Grunka, and they valued size in the top and the front.

But the Elders were driving him crazy.

In exchange for learning the secrets of making beer, Thag had agreed to paint the Drunka Grunkas a mural (and show his artistic techniques to anyone who was interested).

“You should make the next bull bigger,” Cave-Bear-Bite-Leg-Brother told him. On the whole, the Drunka shaman was much nicer than Weasel-Scratch-Face-Brother, but he still had his own theories on art.

“And it should have an extra set of horns,” insisted Critarg, one of the Elders.

“Yes. Extra horns!” the shaman said enthusiastically.

“I think six sets would be appropriate,” suggested Critarg.

Thag sighed and continued painting. He drew the outline of a very small cow.

“That’s a cow!” Critarg shouted in horror.

“Cow good,” Thag said. “Some Grunkas drink its milk.”

“Not Drunka Grunkas. We only drink beer and water,” explained the shaman. “We don’t need pictures of cows.”

“Cows good,” Thag said, “me grok cow. Cow stay.”

Critarg threw up his arms and said, “I’m going to get the council.”

Just then Twigla walked by, waggling her firm, tiny bottom. Thag smiled at her, and continued smiling, even when the shaman, Cave-Bear-Bite-Leg-Brother said, “what if we draw a representation of the Sky God as a kind of super-sized Cave Bear with a lightning bolt-shaped phallus?”

Here’s the science of Reactance. And here are two other groups who might not know art, but who know what they like. Originally published 2006.

Thag not wear hair gel!

By Mark A. Rayner on July 24, 2009 in Odd Science, Skwibby fiction, Thag

Thag not wear hair gel If he were honest, Thag would say that his affair with the nubile Vunga, the half-daughter of the shaman, could not last forever.

Not only was she was at least ten years younger, but eventually the Thunka Grunka clan would demand that he and Onga — his actual mate — start warming sleeping furs together lest the delicate sexual balance of the cave be upset.

He did NOT anticipate that the clan would adopt a knew beau for Vunga, but then again, her half-father, that foreskin with a forehead, Weasel-Scratch-Face-Brother was in a position to smooth the way for a new hunter to join the clan, and he did.

Not that Thag was upset with Fonzag himself. Though he was quite short, he was a competent hunter; the rest of the hunting party got along with him too, though he occasionally worried them with the way he would celebrate a hunting victory, by turning his thumbs upward and issuing his trademark cry: “heyyyyyy!” And apart from this quirk, Fonzag’s only other failing (as far as Thag could tell) was an affectation he had with his hair, which he wore in a strange fashion.

The diminutive Fonzag liked to shave the sides of his head, and he made the remaining hair stick up like the spikes of a porcupine by using some kind of noxious combination of tree resin and animal fat. After a few hours in the sun, it gave off quite the stench, but so far it hadn’t scared off any prey.

On the contrary, it had captured the delectable, if fickle, attentions of Vunga, who had been sharing slappies with Thag because she enjoyed his cave art. But no more, now that she had Fonzag’s bristly locks to capture her attention.

Briefly, Thag thought about styling his hair the same way, but then he noticed the wayward look in Blodja’s eye. It seemed that she too was an “admirer” of cave art.

The fact that she was Weasel-Scratch-Face-Brother’s younger sister had no impact on Thag asking her for a “walk” in the woods to discuss his work. Oh no, none at all.

More details about a prehistoric bog man who liked to slick back his with hair gel. Some of these people also have questionable grooming habits. Originally published January 2006.

Thag do art!

By Mark A. Rayner on July 22, 2009 in But is it art?, Hinky History, Thag

horse cave painting Ever since he’d started making the cave paintings, Thag had noticed that the women in the Thunka Grunka clan had been looking at him differently.

Perhaps it was his position as the leader of the hunting party, but he thought it had more to do with his artwork.

Whatever the case, he was gettin’ some on a regular basis.

Nominally, he was still mated to Onga, but she had all but deserted him for that scrotum-with-eyes shaman, Weasel-Scratch-Face-Brother. In fact, it had been Onga’s desertion, and his ensuing depression, which had spurred Thag into creating more artwork for the cave.

The younger unmated women of the clan seemed to like his deft representations of the animals they hunted, particularly Vunga, the half-daughter of the Shaman.

“It looks so spiritual,” Vunga would say whenever he completed a painting.

“Thag suffer for art,” he confided, looking pained, unsure, filled with angst.

“Oh, poor Thag,” Vunga would say, and then take him by the hand so that they could go for a “walk” in the forest.

On such occasions, Thag could swear he could hear the sound of Weasel’s teeth grinding from his shaman’s perch outside the cave.

“Thag do art for Vunga tomorrow,” he would promise as they walked into the shaded trees, her hips swaying like the boughs in the breeze.

You can discover more about Sex and the single artist here. Other sexy beasts here. Originally published 2005