By Mark Loper
A short story about a certain Neanderthal.
The Neanderthal stepped out of his cave.
It was a good cave.
No, it was a beautiful cave.
It was a beautiful cave, deep with many rooms.
It was the best of all caves.
The Neanderthal looked at the blue sky.
He did not know what blue was.
But he would ask someone, maybe a Cro-Magnon, who knew more about blue.
Then he would ignore what he was told and say what he wanted about blue.
Because even though he knew his brain was smaller than that of a Cro-Magnon’s, he would never admit this.
He would deflect, blame, and lie about only having a single-digit IQ.
The Neanderthal trudged through the trees and wiped his supraorbital ridge.
Perspiration ran down his sloping forehead like a waterfall.
It was hot and every day it was getting hotter.
But the Neanderthal knew this had nothing to do with changing weather patterns.
Because that was science and science was stupid.
It was hotter because there were too many illegals.
Illegals were drug dealers, rapists, and Democrats.
The Neanderthal thought of his woman back at the cave (and it was a beautiful cave!), and though she didn’t clean or cook, she looked great in furs.
And this was good for public appearances.
As the leader of the Neanderthals, he sometimes considered taking another woman.
Because … well, women were to be taken!
But then the Neanderthal women were not appealing with their flattened skulls, unshaven bodies, and no cosmetic surgery.
Sadly, they would never look anything like Raquel Welch in One Million Years B.C.
The Neanderthal spotted a saber-toothed tiger and stopped.
He was surprised because the saber-toothed tiger was supposed to be extinct.
He had ordered the hunters of his tribe to wipe out the saber-toothed tiger because they were killing his even-toed ungulates.
And though the Neanderthal didn’t disclose this to his clansmen, he was selling the ungulates at a nice profit.
Much more than he was getting from selling monogramed stone-tipped spears.
His hunters had obviously lied to him.
And now he would be blamed for this inhumane act.
But the Neanderthal would not admit to this bad thing; in fact, if saber-toothed tigers were brought up, he’d change the subject.
Maybe argue the meaning of blue.
The Neanderthal, still watching the saber-toothed tiger, thought about running away.
Yes, he’d run and hide.
And tell everyone he’d been attacked by hundreds of illegals.
And then he’d sue the saber-toothed tigers.
Being a bully was a lot better than being brave.
The Neanderthal smiled while reaching under his animal skin vest to fondle a saggy breast.
Then he skirted the saber-toothed tiger now feeding on a giant ground sloth.
The Neanderthal had so much to do.
He had to make up numbers for something called tariffs even though he was told Neanderthals had no imports.
Then he had to make up excuses for deporting anyone he wanted to someplace called El Salvador.
The Neanderthal shook his shaggy nearly empty head.
It was so hard being the leader of a prehistoric society.
It was easier before when they just built hovels, or as they were often called … dumps.
Even though they frequently collapsed the hovels were very profitable.
And the Neanderthal also took many questionable write-offs.
The Neanderthal reached the edge of the cliff and studied the valley below.
His thoughts were shallow but briefly touched upon that issue with the fence.
This was the fence his tribe was demanding he build to keep out the passive, but less-evolved earlier species of Homo habilis and Homo erectus.
Not only did the Neanderthal and his tribe feel vastly superior to the smaller brained Homos, but they were also deeply offended by their species scientific name.
The Neanderthal scratched his lice-infested head and grunted.
This thinking was way too hard.
And he started to get angry because getting angry was far easier than thinking.
And now the Neanderthal was angry at his hunters for lying to him.
He was angry he couldn’t stop the Cro-Magnons from defying him.
And he was really angry he couldn’t grope Raquel Welch.
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