Go back one page
If you are underage, or in any way forbidden by your government or religious laws from viewing X-rated subject matter, please do not read this salty tale. If, however, you are not restricted by any laws in your geographical location, by all means read on.
-------------------------------------------------------------- Permission granted by author for anyone to distribute this writing free of charge (including translation into any language)...under condition that no profit is made therefrom, and that it remain intact and complete, including title and credit to the original author. Ezekiel J. Krahlin http://surf.to/gaybible -------------------------------------------------------------- DREAM ON: ENCOUNTER WITH A NEANDERTHAL (A Parable for the 21st Century) © 1997 by Ezekiel J.Krahlin (Jehovah's Queer Witness) (This story is dedicated to "The Witt," my biker buddy.) Jeen-Cat, a young Cro-Magnon boy, found himself fleeing north to escape the plunder of an evil tribe from the east. His village, which had dwelled in peace since before Jeen-Cat was born, had become, in a few horrible hours, piles of splinter and straw, pools of blood and violated corpses. Those villagers who were diseased or elderly were instantly bludgeoned to death; the rest were eaten alive, or carried off to be preserved for larder; Jeen-Cat was the only survivor, for his father told him to run. It was still The Ice Age (though the glaciers were now receding), and Jeen-Cat would rather die in the cold waste of the north, than in the hands, or between the teeth, of brutes. Jeen-Cat's people lived in a temperate zone, and knew nothing about survival in the land of ice...so a quiet death in snow became his only (and greatest) expectation. Two seasons passed before Jeen-Cat reached the icy wall, and began his treacherous ascent up the jagged crevices. By the time he reached the frigid plateau, he collapsed, bloody, exhausted, and freezing at the wall's edge. In every other direction lay a limitless land of snow and ice. Weeping the loss of his people, he closed his eyes to welcome death in snow's embrace. But fate held a different plan, of which death played no part. Jeen-Cat opened his eyes to the stony walls of a cave, ruddy with the light of a warm fire...and the broad smile of a man gazing down at him: the first Neanderthal face he had ever seen...broader and rougher than the delicate bone structure of a Cro-Magnon's face...but the most handsome and kind face Jeen-Cat ever saw! "Are you God?" were the boy's first words as he lay there, still drowsy, tucked beneath a large, woolly blanket of mammoth hide. The Caveman, not understanding Jeen-Cat's language, could only respond with quizzical lines across his deep brow. But the Neanderthal comforted the boy with strong, rough hands; and brushed away his tears with one finger...then crawled into the comfortable pile of skins to press his body against Jeen-Cat, and embrace him with great fondness, as the boy drifted off to a pleasant and healing sleep. It took only the passing of two full moons before Jeen-Cat could fluently speak the Neanderthal tongue -- they were that happy and eager to learn everything about each other. For the Caveman bore great sorrow, too, before they met...his small family of one wife and two sons were forever separated from him by a Great Storm. In the Land of Ice, no family has ever been known to survive without The Father to lead, protect, and hunt...at least not until the First Son equalled his Father in strength and skill. And survival necessitated that Neanderthal families remain small and scattered far apart -- so it was usually impossible for a family to replace a dead or lost Father with a new one. Freezing death rapidly overcame the Fatherless family; though, gratefully, its last conscious stages blessed the sufferers with the illusion of physical well-being and mental euphoria...thus deems Mother Nature in her cold mercy. Jeen-Cat's Caveman kept a special place in the back of his cave, where he painted a picture of his family living with a New Man; and sat there for some time each evening in the meditative shadows of flickering fire...for that picture was his prayer. The Cro-Magnon boy and the Neanderthal man each had their own given names, of course, but to celebrate their friendship, they gave each other a spirit name -- which names, whenever spoken, would bring a pain of fondness to their hearts. They also called each other by many different terms of affection, but their favorite names were their spirit names, and these were: "Little Pony" (for the boy), and "Wit" (for the man). Jeen-Cat called the Caveman "Wit" because his Neanderthal buddy had the most wonderful sense of humor that made Jeen-Cat never feel sadness again, for the rest of their lives. The Caveman called his new boy "Little Pony" because Jeen-Cat was as frisky and mischievous as a colt...and also because, while Jeen-Cat's Cro-Magnon physique would always remain more delicate than a Neanderthal's, he grew into a fine specimen of a man, just like a muscular, strong little pony. How did the Caveman know about horses, when none existed on the Ice Cap? Well, in sharing their lives, Jeen-Cat taught the Neanderthal all about the world of Cro-Magnon in the temperate zone. The Caveman was astounded to hear of such abundant plant and animal life at every step, in every direction! But he was also greatly saddened to hear of such evil between tribes, that would turn paradise into hell...as happened to his Little Pony. Jeen-Cat drew numerous animals from his world, on the walls of their Neanderthal cave, including a big horse and a little horse. "The big horse is you," said Jeen-Cat, "and the little horse is me." Fire was not yet known in Little Pony's Cro-Magnon world, so he twice suffered a burned hand before learning to regard it not just in awe, but with respect. Fire was so sacred to the Neanderthal, that rituals grew around it, which were passed on from Father to Son; hence from Wit to Little Pony. It is obvious how the portable warmth of fire in the Land of Ice could be sacred to the Caveman, for without it no man could even live. In addition to preventing one from freezing to death, it allowed Neanderthal Man to: thaw and cook food that he preserved outside in ice, melt snow or ice for water to drink and bathe in, see in the dark night when no man was able to see before, scare or burn dangerous beasts away, and cauterize serious wounds. Reasons enough for Caveman to regard fire as a gift from the gods (Prometheus), worship the sun (Zoroaster), and conceive of God as a luminous being or creator of light as the first manifestation of creation ("Let there be light"). But there are also less obvious gifts that came from fire, but which literally ignited the spirit and inspiration of Ice Age Man. Fire, by illuminating his cave at night, allowed Neanderthal time to think and party, and do creative things, rather than curl up and go to sleep once it got dark. Fire allowed him to paint deep in caves where it was formerly too dark to see -- thus, those tribes or peoples without fire, could not be part of the "Secret Order Of The Keepers Of The Flame," whose members were the only ones entitled to view (and create) those sacred paintings. Fire, by virtue of its beautiful colors and flames that flicker so hypnotically, naturally inspired Man's meditative, introspective, and trance-inducing capabilities...especially before bedtime, when he was already tired from a hard day of hunting in the frigid air, and therefore most receptive to trance-like states of higher consciousness. Wit and Little Pony often made love around the fire, in a male-bonding ritual that joined the worship of fire (a provider of life to all Ice People) with worship of the male (a provider of life to the Family). Since "Father" and, more generally, "The Male," were the life force on which the Neanderthal family totally depended for its survival, it is natural that worship of the male body evolved into one of the rituals around fire...from which females were forbidden to participate in, or even witness. The ritual was usually a gathering between passing families, where the men and boys would dance at night, their fine bodies shining in the fire's gentle glow. Their own masculine beauty would draw them into incredibly erotic frenzies, when their homosexual drive would take over as the climax to their worship. Sometimes, these ceremonies would lead to a "bonding" of two or more families into a tribe...thereby increasing each family's potential for survival and comfort in a cold and hostile existence. As the Ice Age diminished, more families bonded into tribes. Peaceful coexistence between two tribes was reasonably assured by intermarriage between men and women of both tribes...but an even greater likelihood of peace between two peoples, was when both "chiefs" of each tribe found conjugal bliss in each other's arms! One day, Wit decided it was time to initiate Little Pony with the "Taking In Of The Fire"...a form of tattooing called scarification, whereby a tattoo is burned into the skin by the end of a sharp, fiery stick made from the bone of a white wolf. TAKING IN OF THE FIRE: As fire worship, the initiation denotes taking the sacred flame into one's self. As animal worship, it represents the wolf, who for time immemorial has stood by the entrance to Man's cave, eyes glowing in fiery reflection...finally taken into the cave (and Man's heart) as "Best Friend". As male worship, it symbolizes the Neanderthal's initiation into true manhood. It is excrutiatingly painful, and that is how it should be. At the arrival of the next darkest night (New Moon), The Neanderthal burned a tattoo of a dancing horse into his lover's left shoulder. "Believe me, buddy, it hurts me more than it does you!" Wit kept hollering at Little Pony who bit down on a stick to keep from screaming, while the Caveman etched the fire into flesh. But Little Pony was proud, very proud, to finally bear the mark that made him a True Neanderthal. Since the night he "took fire," he would often fall asleep with his fingers touching the raised mark on that shoulder. But for the Caveman, to touch his Little Pony, anywhere, was his greatest honor. There were some interesting anatomical differences between Neanderthal and Cro-Magnon. For one thing, while Wit was of small stature (only an inch taller than Little Pony), his bones were so dense that he weighed 206 pounds, while a Cro-Magnon of the same height would weigh only about 150. He could pick Little Pony up with one, outstretched arm. Wit also had much thicker skin, which took a deeper cut to draw blood, and healed more rapidly than Cro-Magnon's. His skin would shed periodically, in large, thick flakes. And, while Little Pony was susceptible to dental cavities, the Neanderthal's teeth were not...if he lost a tooth, another would grow right in! Little Pony sometimes got pissed off because Wit never had toothaches, and because he was constantly cleaning little piles of skin flakes from the cave floor. ("God, every time you scratch yourself, we have a snowstorm in the house!" he'd holler at his Caveman buddy.) We all still have a bit of Neanderthal genes inside us, some more so than others. How fortunate for those who can eat all the sugar they want, never brush their teeth, yet always have perfect ivories! How fortunate for those men born with Neanderthal bones, that give them such strong, butch bodies without lifting a single finger to exercise! But how unfortunate for those born with shedding skin, now considered an incurable disease (or at best, a terrible nuisance) called "eczema," the worst forms of which can disfigure one's face. At first, Little Pony was quite upset at the way Wit greeted his male friends...by slipping a hand into the guy's crotch (friend reciprocating in like manner). But the Cro-Magnon boy finally calmed down, after Wit explained, very patiently, that this was how two Neanderthal men indicated friendly, rather than evil, intentions. "Can't you just shake hands?" complained Little Pony, "That's how our people indicate friendliness." "Yeah, well you ain't gonna just let anyone stick his hand in your crotch, if you're the least bit uncomfortable or suspicious," replied Wit, "How much easier for an enemy to pass into your cave with the shake of a hand! If your people used the crotch method, I'm sure your enemy tribes would have been identified quickly enough to protect yourselves from any possible destruction." "Oh, yeah?" snapped his little buddy, "Then the Great Father would have never found an excuse to bring us together!" And so they lived out their blissful lives, Little Pony and Wit, in the Land of Snow and Ice, and Brotherly Love. And in the later part of their lives, when it seemed that Neanderthal would soon leave this mortal veil, Little Pony wanted to die with him. So they walked for miles, together, to a place where they could perish in peace, under a blanket of snow beneath the starry sky.Ilustration by The Witt ---finis