I just watched a show about prehistoric man and the beginning of the traditional family unit and wondered what life would have been like for me if I grew-up with my family, thousands and thousands of years ago.
I can picture my mother yelling…
“Paul, clean-up this cave, it’s a mess! Look how dirty the floors are.”
“Ma, that’s because the floors are made of dirt.”
“Don’t get flip with me, young man… and how many times do I have to tell you, stop writing on the walls!”
“Mom, I’m a caveman. That’s what cavemen do.”
“That’s no excuse… If your friend, Ugh, jumped in a volcano, would you?”
“Only if it pleased the fire gods, mother.”
“And look at you… Stand-up straight, young man! Look at the way you’re slouching.”
“Ma, loosen-up. It’s not my fault, I’m still evolving!”
“Enough with the excuses… What are you going to do with your life?”
“Well, I spend much of my time trying to not step in molten lava or get eaten by a scary creature, for starters.”
“You need to do something constructive… Did you know that my friend Wilma’s son is working on something brand-new called ‘the wheel?’… It’s supposed to be the biggest thing since fire!”
(under my breath) “Whoopie-fucking-ding… the Flintstone boy this… and the Flintstone boy that…”
“What was that, Paul?”
“Nothing mother.”