Monday, December 27, 2010

Here's the beginning of my WIP

Bonk and Hedz

A caveman story

By Norm Cowie

Way after Adam and Eve, but still a long time ago.

Chapter Wheelies

“What is it?” Grog asked.

Bonk grinned. “I call it a ‘wheel.” Then he inadvertently rolled the big rock over the other caveman’s foot.

“Ow, ow, ow!” Grog yelped, jumping up and down. When the pain receded, he looked at the rock with interest. “Hey, can I buy that off you?”

Bonk blinked. He hadn’t considered selling it. He looked down at the wheel, and then back at Grog. “Well, I guess…”

“Awesome,” Grog said. He whipped out a leaf and scribbled on it with a bit of coal (they’d just discovered fire the day before – Groml, the first attorney, was still fighting for the copyright).

Grog handed the leaf to Bonk who frowned at it. “What’s this?”

Grog gave a shark grin, “It’s a check.”

“A check?”

“Yep. A check is a negotiable instrument backed by funds deposited at the bank.”

“Bank?” This was over Bonk’s head. Did it have something to do with the nearby riverbank? He trusted the river. Maybe not the crocs inside, but the river was another thing. After thirst had been invented a month previously, the river had proven to be a valuable and reliable natural resource that should stay clean, at least until the creation of BP Amoco. He scratched under his arm, releasing a foul stench, and he thought maybe he might invent bathing sometime in the near future.

“Yeah. Look, it won’t bounce.” Grog dropped the leaf on the ground. Sure enough, it didn’t bounce. “See, it’s good. I’ll just take my new wheel now.”

Grog took the wheel, and carefully rolled it down the road, which had just been invented the previous Tuesday. Tuesday itself had been invented several days before.

As Grog disappeared around the corner with the wheel which he planned to sell to Henry Ford’s earliest ancestor, Bonk looked at the scribbled marks on the leaf, wondering just how to get money out of it. Whatever money was, for that matter.

After a moment, he sighed, and clutching the check in a hirsute hand, strolled over to the riverbank, keeping a wary eye out for crocs. He stood by the clean, fresh stream (pollution had not yet been invented, nor the lobbyists who handed over buckets of money to politicians to protect industrial polluters). After a moment’s reflection, he dropped the check onto the river’s bank. As the check hit the sand, a gust of wind caught it and it quickly fluttered out of sight bouncing manically.


(much more to come www.normcowie.com)

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