Evolution

Life in the Big Cave was no picnic, especially if one was a light sleeper like Wee-nee. The Big Cave went on and on into the mountain and there were animals living deep in the dark that made high, squeaky noises and low, growling noises. Wee-nee and the tribe stayed near the opening and the animal stayed away from the fires, but none of that made Wee-nee sleep easy.

As usual, Wee-nee was the first one awake. Sounds of snoring, crackling fires and windy cheeks filled the cave. Wee-nee wrinkled his nose in disgust. He pushed a dirty finger in his ear and dug around for a bit, wishing he wasn’t so sensitive. Even after more moons than he could remember, Wee-nee could not get used to the Big Cave. The tribe had spent many seasons in Small Cave before coming here. Wee-knee was used to Small Cave. The sounds were smaller, the drafts were smaller, and the tribe had been smaller. And there were no sounds of animals in the Small Cave and nowhere for squeaky fur birds or growling packs of whatever cavemen called wolves to keep one awake at nigh. Wee-nee sighed. He was cave sick.

And now, he had to make water. He flicked some ear candy at the ceiling and carefully made his way to the outside, stepping over the sleeping bodies and rock piles. He paused to pick up a stone and then cautiously stepped outside, arm cocked and ready. He saw no sign of BigTeeth or SwiftClaws, Wee-nee sighed with relief and scurried a few yards down the slope and made water. Unfortunately, Wee-nee knew this would probably be the highlight of his day.

Today he would gather yumyums with the women and children while the other men hunted Hoofmeat. Wee-nee had gone out hunting once, back when they lived in Small Cave. It was cold and dreary, and he hated it. But Wee-nee was still clinging to self-respect back in the Small Cave days, so he pretended to love it. The others did not trust Wee-nee and did not want him on the hunt. He was smaller and less hairy than the men and most of the women. Only the fact that Wee-nee was a decent rock-thrower persuaded them into taking him along. Wee-nee couldn’t swing a club or throw a spear, but when it came to throwing rocks, he was the best. Well, he was very good. Wee-nee was an okay rock-thrower. A rock would not kill Hoofmeat, not one Wee-nee could throw, but it might stun him and give the party time to finish it off. When they finally found Hoofmeat, or when Hoofmeat found them, which is how Wee-nee remembered it, he had stood there, frozen, and made water as Hoofmeat charged toward him. Wee-nee remembered hearing a roar before the ground had rushed up to embrace him.

“Sleep on hunt. Wake up yumyum gatherer," he muttered. He was the only man on yumyum detail. Before Grock left for the hunt he would mock Wee-nee, He would say "Wee-nee stupid" or "Wee-nee dumb." Wee-nee would say nothing. Wee-nee would look at the ground. Wee-nee remembered Tarkis, Tarkis was big. Tarkis was strong But one day Grok spoke and Tarkis did not look at the ground. Grok got angry. Big Tarkis became small Tarkis, Lots of small Tarkis. So Wee-nee would stare at ground and go pick yumyums.

This was fine with Wee-nee After all, he got to be with Leena all morning.

Leena was pretty like morning sun. Her body less hairy than the others and she had most of her teeth. Wee-nee loved spending time with Leena, but he wanted to spend time on Leena even more. Now that would never happen. 'Leena not want yumyum man-child,' he berated himself. 'Leena only bump bump with meat bringers.' Meat bringers like Grock, he thought sullenly.

Grock was cave leader. Everybody feared Grock. Even Hoofmeat fear Grock. “Grock liked Leena.” Alone under the stars, in the darkness before dawn, Wee-nee could not fool himself. He could not best Grok. He argued at the fading night lights.

"Grock choke Gak with one hand. Grock so big he crouch to enter cave. Grock forehead hard like yumyum shells. Nostril hairs wave like fields of long grass when Grock snore.” Wee-nee sat down on the sitting rock and sighed. “Leena not want Wee-nee. Leena want big Grock."

It was true. Leena was always first to ride Grock after a hunt. When Grock killed his maker and became cave leader, Leena bathed! Wee-nee sighed and began to make his way back to the cave. He just could not compete with big Grock.

Later that morning in the clearing of the small forest Wee-nee kept stealing glances at Leena. He daydreamed about taking her to the dung heap on Winternite and bumping her. He knew it was just a daydream. He would never be a hunter. Never a leader, always a yumyum gatherer, and Leena would never bump in the dungheap with a yumyum gatherer. Still, it was a nice dream. The thoughts kept Wee-nee excited and warm

When it was time to leave the forest, Leena caught him looking at her. She looked down at Wee-nee’s excitement, and smiled! "You look, you don't touch," Leena laughed. "Why you look?”

Wee-nee didn't know what came over him. This was the most Leena had ever talked to him. He froze like she was Hoofmeat. Lena talked to him. To Wee-nee! Leena looked and waited. Then shook her head and started away. Wee-nee panicked.

"I look. Your face bright like sun. Your Yumyums soft like slug meat. You warm like fire. Sky always blue when I see you."

Leena stopped walking and stared at Wee-nee. "What you say?"

Wee-nee swallowed. "I say, Your face bright like-"

Leena threw herself into Wee-nee and they both fell to the ground. She landed on top of him and pulled his face into her yumyums. "Say again," she breathed.

"Mmmphh," Wee-nee replied.

That was enough for Leena. She rode Wee-nee right there and all thoughts of meat and hairy nostrils dissolved into an emotional haze.

"Face bright like sun," she whispered, smiling.

Weeks from now, Wee-nee would be the first man to come up with a word that rhymed with "grunt." But for now, he couldn't be happier.

And that’s the evolution of poetry