Note: A Neanderthal perspective chapter, concerning their discovery of Eddie, has been omitted from this serial.
There Goes the Neighborhood
He could hear them all milling around outside before he even properly woke up.
Brother, this is worse than the Mexicans getting up for work at six-in-the-morning. Yeah, it seems like there’s always going to be some hard-working chumps who can’t speak English moving into the neighborhood to wake a dude up early...
Good Lord they smell! How long is it going to take you to get used to this son?
You prepared brutha. Hey, the Player is gone. Get out of my head.
But you know son, the Player set you up, was thinking ahead to a possible world of romance; a night under the furs with some cave-girl.
You see these ugly bitches yo?
Affirmative my brutha. That’s why we need to break out the cave-girl-romance-kit in service to your nose.
The wall of body odor that had hit him like a call to all the dumpster-diving-homeless-dudes from East Baltimore was going to make it impossible for him to eat. Even the dogs—wolves he had to keep reminding himself—were crinkling up their noses in disgust as they emerged from their tent into the befouled morning air. He looked up to see the entire hairy smelly clan standing before him like children on Christmas morning. He ducked back inside, got his prehistoric-cave-ho-macking-personal-hygiene-kit, and stepped out into the morning sun like he was filming an infomercial.
“Hey y’all, Uncle Eddie here to demonstrate cleanliness for y’all. First thing is to take a mouth full of water like this…and swish it around and spit it out just like that. Pass it around and try it; fresh breath in the morning.”
They had a lot of fun learning how to gargle, swish and spit. It was then that Eddie found out that these people laughed and had a sense of humor.
“Okay y’all, now that y’alls’ breath is fixed so it won’t knock Uncle Eddie on his ass, I gotz the B.O. answer for y’all. These joints, with the pretty little baby on the box—see here, see how clean his ass is—is made in New Jersey by the clean-freak company of them all. Ya take one sheet, wipe them dirty hands, and scrub unda each armpit like that. Ya then take anotha sheet and wipe yo face. Now ya fold these all up—face sheet on top—this is embarrassing son! Look son, you’ve taken showers in Juvenile Hall, just get it done…and wipe yo ass. A course y’all ain’t wearin’ complex attire like my advanced self, so that part will be somewhat simpler.”
They loved the smell of the baby wipes and went at the cleaning with gusto, with much laughing. Then Big Mama started pointing to her groin.
“Oh yeah; sorry about that ladies. Here y’all go. One fer that spot and here, one fer unda dem big ole titties too. Yeah, there ya go.”
He then noticed the singing girl; the skinny one, who actually spoke some words, was not as ugly as the rest, and didn’t share their thick curly red hair. She had done all of her cleaning chores diligently and was standing smiling at him, holding hands with her mate, who had to be the ugliest of the younger dudes. She was rocking on her heels and biting her lip and staring at Eddie’s head.
“Whach’you want Cave-Girl?”
She looked at Big Mama, who made a slight hoot and batted her eyelids. With that Cave-Girl skipped—She skipped!—forward and placed her open hand on his head and rubbed his tight little afro, which he picked diligently every day, even though it was only an inch thick. The girl made a beautiful song note in her throat and the others joined in, sounding even smoother.
Shoot son these folks could sell a million CDs.
He thought back to their astounding performance the day before, when they sang for hours—not so much singing with words, but using their throats and mouths like musical instruments.
“I gotch’you Cave-Girl; Eddie’s got a hair pick and a comb fo yo pretty ass—pretty you could be girl.”
Crack-Head
As always seemed the way, the best-looking girl in the set would be with the ugliest dude, just because the dude was dangerous. As a good-looking dude who couldn’t even frighten a baby, this had always bothered Eddie. He was somewhat pleased that this was an unthinkably ancient fact-of-life, and empathized with the three youngest dudes, who seemed the smartest, but had no girl at all. In fact, there were very few girls to go around: the sick old lady; Big Mama; Cave-Girl; and the short one with the enormous ass and two babies. He thought, as he picked and combed his hair before the young cave-couple that stood before him holding hands like middle-school sweethearts.
Well ugly-dude, you’re doing alright for yourself.
When he was done picking and combing he handed his tools to Cave-Girl. He did not want them back, and he had a spare set anyhow.
Tannika I laughed when you told me that I should bring hygiene and beauty supplies. I’m glad I listened to you girl. These girls would love you.
While Cave-Girl began using the pick on her tangled hair her mate, who always carried two short heavy spears—just sharpened sticks really—began leaping in the air, smacking his dirty bare feet on the cold ground, and stabbing the air with his spears as he imitated the sounds that had been made by the leopard in the tree.
Honest son, I don’t want your girl if that’s what this is about. You’re scaring me Crack-Head—Oh yes, that’s the name for you son.
“Yo Crack-Head, stop your spinning around and help your girl comb out her hair.”
The man stopped and looked at Eddie questioningly, so Eddie demonstrated how to pick knots out of hair and then use the comb. Soon the entire clan was so close they were essentially in a huddle, with Eddie supervising as Cave-Girl stood smiling and Big Mama and Crack-Head picked and combed her hair. It was 9:15 a.m. before the entire clan had picked and combed their hair. Big Mama placed the pick and comb in the hair of the fat butt girl.
I guess I can call her Fat Butt. They don’t understand English so she won’t feel offended.
