The Hardihoodious Adventure of Fleshy, Slimbob and Mocknock

Back in the time when different species of humans made their homes in caves, there lived along the saw-toothed coast of an eastern archipelago, a very fat boy named Fleshy who had a skinny little dog named Slimbob. Fleshy was a Neanderthal boy, and a fat one at that! His mother made his clothes from the skins of mammoths because the skins of deer and wild pigs were just too small. Slimbob his dog, on the other hand, was so skinny and small that Fleshy could carry him in a pouch made from the hides of moles. Back in those days there was no such thing as a pet; humans hadn't learned to domesticate animals yet. But Fleshy had rescued the frail and frightened canine from the jaws of an opportunistic and ravenous Snowsnake, minutes after the abandoned runt had been born. Slimbob had two subcranial puncture wounds from the snake’s bite but his rescuer nursed him back to life by applying ground comfrey leaves mixed with cave bear coprolites, and he recovered. Well, he almost recovered. He was never going to be the fierce and savage dog that he was meant to be, but instead he was docile, and content to ride around with Fleshy, snug and warm within the moleskine pouch that hung from Fleshy’s neck.

Fleshy’s grandmother Mocknock was the oldest member of the clan; she was 43 years old, which is about 98 in our years. She was cripled from broken bones, she was terribly scarred, she could barely see from one eye and she was in constant pain from her three remaining teeth, which were abscessed. Life was very difficult back then. Winter’s cold breath hovered like frosted fog even inside their limestone cave for it was the Time of Ice all year round. Food was not easy to come by. Hunting for fresh meat was a necessary but often perilous endeavor, and scavenging for carcasses and harvesting winter berries and eggs of ravens and seagulls was also very dangerous. Fat insects provided tasty snacks. Along the ragged coast, clams could be dug at low tide, and unwary fish could be coaxed into mudtraps. But Neanderthals, especially the weak and the vulnerable like Fleshy and his grandmother, had to be vigilant for predators; monstrous cave bears and bloodthirsty lions were also on the hunt. One morning as the distant sun rose above the craggy sweep of mountains, Mocknock quietly said, “ I want to go hunting.”

Fleshy was chosen to accompany her. Fleshy and Mocknock knew that they were the most expendable of the clan members, and should they not return, well, it would be sad, but the clan would survive. Fleshy’s aunt packed them a paltry lunch consisting of a hare’s tongue each, and two fish eyeballs. Fleshy carefully chose a hunting spear from the many which leaned against the cave wall. He deliberately and heedfully examined it for strength and straightness. Into the bitter morning air they ventured. Mocknock chose her steps carefully and slowly. Her walking stick was whittled from the limb of an alligator juniper tree, and she prodded it into the snow crust before every step. Her senses were straining to perceive every sound and detect any slight movement, for years and years of hunting had sharpened her great skills. Although she was frail she still retained a hunter's instinct. Slowly they made their way to a nearby ridge and there they chose a natural concavity in which to rest.

As Fleshy pinched off a small bite of lunch for the trio, his mind wandered back to the cave and to the clan. He had noticed that the winterberries which had been fermenting in cave bear skulls were ready at last for consumption. Was this the day the elders would be whooping and hollering and banging bones on tightly stretched skins? Would they twirl like whirligigs, would arguments break out among the brothers and cousins? Would the females snarl and bite each other and sneak forbidden morsels of precious meat when the males staggered outside to engage in more robust and combative contests?

Suddenly Fleshy’s reverie was cut short. Slimbob was growling; from the small pouch came the feeble but unmistakable warning. Mocknock who was nearly deaf somehow heard it too, or perhaps she felt it. Her eyes met Fleshy’s. There was no sign of fear as she held her steadfast gaze, but Fleshy felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise and stiffen. And suddenly it appeared; a growling, red-eyed, salivating cave bear whose teeth and claws were the size of gigantic icicles; its glassy red eyes glowed fiercely, like red-hot coals.

With a steady hand Mocknock reached for their small packet of lunch and hurled the morsels toward the monster, hoping to buy precious time. The bear ignored the offering and lumbered closer; it opened its cavernous mouth and emitted a thunderous growl. Fleshy could see into its massive mouth, a moat of jagged spear-like teeth projected from its jaws. Fleshy’s mind was swiftly sifting through ideas, every cell in his body was charged with a current of fear, but still, outwardly he remained calm.

It suddenly came to him. He would sacrifice his little dog Slimbob, and if that didn’t appease the deadly predator, well then, two options would remain.

Back at the cave Fleshy’s reverie was indeed unfolding. Not long after Fleshy, Slimbob and Mocknock had left for their hunt, the clanswomen had distributed portions of the frothing grog to all the clan members. Already the group was loose-tongued and staggering. The reserves of frozen meat had been ransacked by the ravenous females while the younger boisterous men tussled and scuffled to the beats of bones on tight skins. The older men, men in their early thirties, danced to the loud rhythms, guzzling the potent drink with exhilaration and fervor. And then, quite abruptly, an incident occured that put an immediate end to the merriment. Fleshy’s older cousin, who had been sparring with another fit young man, received a blow to the head so powerful that it knocked him to the ground. There he lay, bleeding and unconscious, and he appeared quite dead. The drunken kinfolk quickly looked about for Mocknock who was the Keeper of Medicines and the clan’s Healer. In a foggy but accurate recollection, Fleshy’s aunt remembered that Mocknock had gone hunting. Quickly she ordered four young huntsmen to arm themselves with spears and to leave immediately on a quest to track the hunting party. Away they went, zigzagging across the tundra, staggering but upright, following the tracks of Fleshy and Mocknock.

Suddenly, one of the huntsmen spotted a large sack, made from the stomach of a wild boar, poking out from the snow’s crust. He wrestled it from its frozen resting place and opened its drawstring. Inside was a small black notebook and $20,000 dollars. Excitedly he motioned to the others to come and inspect the extraordinary find. None of the men had ever seen anything like it, and no one could identify the peculiar materials. Was the “notebook” a fossilized organ? Were the “bills” petrified marrow? One of the young men tentatively put one of the bills in his mouth and chewed cautiously but soon spit out the mouthful and grunted in disgust. The strongest of the young men snatched the sack and slung it over his shoulder, motioning to the others to proceed. Afterall, they were on a very important mission.

Back at the ridge the salivating cave bear was inching closer and closer. Fleshy knew the situation was critical and that he had to act fast. With a heavy heart he extracted Slimbob from his neck pouch and in one quick thrust fixed the poor creature to the end of the spear. Slimbob emitted a heartrending yelp, then went soft. Fleshy’s idea was to violently thrust the spear and its noble little mouthful into the bear's throat, hopefully choking it. Just as he was about to execute his plan, the four young huntsmen appeared on the crest. The trek, and their unusual find had sobered them, and they stood fierce and steady and able, surveying the perilous scene. With hair-raising howls and ear-splitting snarls they lunged upon the bear, driving their spears into its neck and chest with fearsome force. The warrior with the sack hurled the bundle at the bear’s gaping mouth, but missed. The bear, caught off guard by the swift immediacy of the attack, roared furiously and frenziedly and with one last burst of energy stood and swiped its massive claws in the air, narrowly missing Mocknock’s throat. And then, with a deafening thud, it fell to the ground, dead.

Fleshy was overcome with relief. Tears dropped from his eyes, like blood from a cut, as he pried Slimbob from the spear’s tip. The little creature was dead, it was true. Mocknock looked around at the carnage unperturbed ; the little dog with its tongue protruding, the bear with it’s gaping mouth and fixed glare, spears distending from it like a gigantic porcupine. Years of living among untold hazards had toughened her spirit. The four young huntsmen, energized from the kill, were busy collecting fallen saplings to make a carrying sling for their quarry; the cave bear would feed the clan for several upcoming weeks.

The noon sun hung suspended in the sky, red and bold, as the troop made its way back to their home. At the cave the clan was overjoyed to see the group returned and unharmed, bounty in hand. Fleshy’s cousin had awakened; concussed but alive. A lump the size of a mammoth’s kneecap had risen on his forehead, and dried blood coloured his cheeks and mouth. Mocknock chose a sharp hand axe and plucked the bear’s liver from its still hot cavity. With deftness she wrapped the viscus around the lump. Almost immediately the swelling began to recede. The clan’s people sprawled out in front of the two fires that warmed the cave, and, exhausted from the morning's events, they rested.

Fleshy took the sharp hand axe from Mocknock and wrested an enormous tooth from the bear’s mouth. He cleaned it in the snow and polished it with dried boar grizzle. It glistened like white gold. As he dropped it into his moleskin neck pouch, he imagined he heard a soft whimper.

Inside the cave the sack with the small black notebook and bills hung on a natural rock formation that served as a hook. For millenium it hung there, worshipped and admired by untold bands of archaic nomads. To this day, the veneration continues.