Stories and News No. 858
Once upon a time there was the caveman.
But not the caveman in a general sense. Simplifications for private use are enough around.
I mean just one caveman.
In fact, let’s give the exact measurements of the story.
One man with one cave.
He had done a fine dwelling with river view, not too hot in summer nor too cold in winter.
One fine morning, so to speak, the man in the cave awoke to go out, when another man appeared before him.
He was the man of the mountains.
But not a representative and spokesman self-elected leader of all men of the mountains on the earth. The braggarts with a hungry for flash face and an easy megaphone are already in abundance.
I refer to just one man of the mountains.
This time not one mountain, but many, because our primordial guy was an elemental hominid, but that does not mean he was stupid.
As the first theorem of silliness says, the fool is a sick person who does not heal closed in the cave, but coming out of it.
"Where are you going in such a hurry?" Asked the newcomer.
"I go out."
"What?" Inquired the caveman, because the club had not been invented yet.
"Don’t tell me you don’t have a club..."
"I do not."
"You’re lucky, since I have here with me a complete sample."
The man of the mountains moved to the side for a moment and dragged at the caveman's feet a cluster of clubs of every shape and length.
"Oh..." Said the caveman. "I understand, now, but I already have the toothpick, even if yours are too big. Big teeth, uh?"
"These are not toothpicks, idiot. These are clubs, you need it to defend yourself."
"Yes, defend yourself."
"Who? From everything."
"Mammoths don’t attack humans. We do."
"They are extinct."
"I prefer to use my hands, I do it faster. Once I go to take this club of yours and return to the mosquito, it's flown away since a while. "
"What about the snakes?"
"I give them a nice ram. I have large feet, if you know what I mean."
"What about the migrants?"
"We are all migrants here, the beasts too. And you know it. "
"But you have to defend yourself from bad people..."
"We are all a little bad, here, except for the beasts. And you should know this too."
The man of the mountains was exasperated and a little frustrated. He was shrewd, but he had run in the second theorem of silliness: sooner or later, the astute find someone less stupid than he looks like.
"In short," yelled the man of the mountains in a crisis of nerves. "You're a naive and deluded person, a feel-good living fairy tales for bedtime. You do not have a backbone, you're devoid of pride and you don’t have the force to live difficult times like ours. You don’t know what suffering means..."
"That's enough," interrupted the caveman. "You've convinced me, give me a club."
"In exchange for that I want the use of the river out here and the ..."
"What you want, I sign. Give me the club."
"Please," said the man of the mountains, "you may choose the one you prefer."
The man of the cave took from the pile the largest and, while he clutched the handle with growing strength, he thought back to the last words of the man of the mountains. And at the same time he remembered of his wife and son who died of an ordinary flu only a month ago.
"You're right," he said, taking aim. "I need to defend myself."
So he gave the other a mighty blow on the backside.
I think that from that day the man of the mountains is no longer dropped from the peaks of one of them.
Not the man of the mountains in the sense of all, as I already said, only that man of the mountains.
Because we see so many still arriving at the entrance of our cave...
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