This is the story of the very first Christmas. For years, we’ve been told that Christmas has its origins rooted in a story about some baby named Jewsus who lived liked 100 years ago. Well, cavemen were around way before that; like 200 years ago. 200 years is way older than 100 years, so this story must be of the first Christmas. Also, fossil records most likely support this story.
Before raccoons and Tupperware, there were cavemen. Og Smith, a normal caveman, as cavemen go, lived with his wife Cecelia and their 2 children: Ag, their son, and Sharon, their daughter. Smith was a common name back then, unlike today. Og worked the quarries, hunted for game, and fished most days. He’d rarely take time off, and when he did, he usually just sat around the cave playing video games all day.
Og’s cave was part of a big complex of towncaves. He and his hairy neighbors would shop at the local Cave*Mart; a tiny trading cave where people would come to buy yak antlers and sell earwax. Cave*Mart was owned and run by Tward, a third generation boat fucker.
One day, Og’s wive, Cecelia, had a hankering for tree tea and butt meat and sent Og to Cave*Mart with a pound of earwax to make a purchase. During his journey, he thought of how happy his family made him: his wife would feed him breast milk. His son, Ag, would piss on his back to scare away horse flies, and his daughter, Sharon, would braid his hairy balls.
The balls were carried in an animal sack on his back and used to determine if people were witches or not. When Og would meet someone new, he’d take out a ball and hurl it into the water. If the ball floated, it meant that they were a witch. If it sank, it meant that gophers would visit at night and lick their eyebrows. You know what? Now that I think about, it wasn’t a very good test at all.
Anyway, Og decides that he’s going to surprise his family and give them all presents that night. He heads back to his cave, grabs a few CDs that he never listens to anymore, picks another pound of earwax from his ears, chugs some squirrel piss, and heads back to talk with Tward at Cave*Mart.
The deal was done. Og traded his earwax and CDs for a dirt scrapper for his wife, a rock shiner for his daughter, and a Jet Ski for his son. On his trip back home, he met a fem caveman named Sis. Og threw a hairy ball into the water and it half floated, half sank. “What matter of cave-dweller are you to make my hairy ball half soggy?” asked Og. Sis said, “Say there, what’s that super cool stuff you’re ruggedly carrying around?” “They are presents for my family.” said Og. “Are you silly?” laughed Sis. “You should wrap those up in pretty paper, with pretty ribbons and bows.” “I mean, at least wrap up the dirt scrapper and the rock shiner. The Jet Ski looks sweet, though. I would just leave it the way it is.” remarked swishy Sis.
Og didn’t have anything frilly, but what he did have was a big club and a layman’s education to use it. Og thumped Sis upside the head and stole his sissy, frilly clothes. He wrapped up the presents, except for the Jet Ski where he made for it a festive bow out of Sis’s socks.
That night, Og surprised his family with the presents. Og’s wife liked the shirt her present was wrapped in more than the dirt scraper; still, she scraped the dirt into a circle so they could build a nice fire. His son fired up the Jet Ski and it blew Og almost off his feet. As Og took a step to regain his balance, he slipped on a smooth stone that his daughter just polished and fell into the fire.
Hair burns pretty quickly and it will stink up a cave in a heartbeat. So hairy Og leaped out of the fire and ran smack-dab into a small evergreen tree that was growing in their cave. The tree caught fire on the tips of the branches, but didn’t really burst into flames. That’s because live evergreen trees have a lot of moisture content and the sap contained within their needles will burn slowly for hours.
There they were; Og smoldering away, his family together around the tree, watching small fires spring up here, then die out there. Cecelia was using her new dirt scraper to move dirt around, Sharon was polishing rocks, and Ag was taking his Jet Ski apart to figure out why it quit making noise and to determine its function. It ran out of gas because back then only one liter had been refined.
Soon, Og’s story was told to each family in every towncave. Giving presents and setting evergreen trees on fire once a year became a tradition. People would wrap up crappy presents, such as dirt scrapers, into festive packages to make them appear more valuable and appealing. Tward would grow richer from all the people clamoring to his trading cave. He would take their hard-earned earwax and, in turn, sell worthless crap such as yak antlers to hang hairy hats on.
Today, we see the remnants of this first Christmas. Stores get richer while selling worthless crap. People wrap up the worthless crap into festive packages to make them more appealing. Trees are killed so we can see them glow. Or, plastic trees are manufactured so our skies glow from pollution. People step on stuff, get hurt and half their hair gets burned off, while others waste time trying to figure out what their presents do and how to use them. And to think; it all started way back when with some hairy S.O.B. named Og.
Before raccoons and Tupperware, there were cavemen. Og Smith, a normal caveman, as cavemen go, lived with his wife Cecelia and their 2 children: Ag, their son, and Sharon, their daughter. Smith was a common name back then, unlike today. Og worked the quarries, hunted for game, and fished most days. He’d rarely take time off, and when he did, he usually just sat around the cave playing video games all day.
Og’s cave was part of a big complex of towncaves. He and his hairy neighbors would shop at the local Cave*Mart; a tiny trading cave where people would come to buy yak antlers and sell earwax. Cave*Mart was owned and run by Tward, a third generation boat fucker.
One day, Og’s wive, Cecelia, had a hankering for tree tea and butt meat and sent Og to Cave*Mart with a pound of earwax to make a purchase. During his journey, he thought of how happy his family made him: his wife would feed him breast milk. His son, Ag, would piss on his back to scare away horse flies, and his daughter, Sharon, would braid his hairy balls.
The balls were carried in an animal sack on his back and used to determine if people were witches or not. When Og would meet someone new, he’d take out a ball and hurl it into the water. If the ball floated, it meant that they were a witch. If it sank, it meant that gophers would visit at night and lick their eyebrows. You know what? Now that I think about, it wasn’t a very good test at all.
Anyway, Og decides that he’s going to surprise his family and give them all presents that night. He heads back to his cave, grabs a few CDs that he never listens to anymore, picks another pound of earwax from his ears, chugs some squirrel piss, and heads back to talk with Tward at Cave*Mart.
The deal was done. Og traded his earwax and CDs for a dirt scrapper for his wife, a rock shiner for his daughter, and a Jet Ski for his son. On his trip back home, he met a fem caveman named Sis. Og threw a hairy ball into the water and it half floated, half sank. “What matter of cave-dweller are you to make my hairy ball half soggy?” asked Og. Sis said, “Say there, what’s that super cool stuff you’re ruggedly carrying around?” “They are presents for my family.” said Og. “Are you silly?” laughed Sis. “You should wrap those up in pretty paper, with pretty ribbons and bows.” “I mean, at least wrap up the dirt scrapper and the rock shiner. The Jet Ski looks sweet, though. I would just leave it the way it is.” remarked swishy Sis.
Og didn’t have anything frilly, but what he did have was a big club and a layman’s education to use it. Og thumped Sis upside the head and stole his sissy, frilly clothes. He wrapped up the presents, except for the Jet Ski where he made for it a festive bow out of Sis’s socks.
That night, Og surprised his family with the presents. Og’s wife liked the shirt her present was wrapped in more than the dirt scraper; still, she scraped the dirt into a circle so they could build a nice fire. His son fired up the Jet Ski and it blew Og almost off his feet. As Og took a step to regain his balance, he slipped on a smooth stone that his daughter just polished and fell into the fire.
Hair burns pretty quickly and it will stink up a cave in a heartbeat. So hairy Og leaped out of the fire and ran smack-dab into a small evergreen tree that was growing in their cave. The tree caught fire on the tips of the branches, but didn’t really burst into flames. That’s because live evergreen trees have a lot of moisture content and the sap contained within their needles will burn slowly for hours.
There they were; Og smoldering away, his family together around the tree, watching small fires spring up here, then die out there. Cecelia was using her new dirt scraper to move dirt around, Sharon was polishing rocks, and Ag was taking his Jet Ski apart to figure out why it quit making noise and to determine its function. It ran out of gas because back then only one liter had been refined.
Soon, Og’s story was told to each family in every towncave. Giving presents and setting evergreen trees on fire once a year became a tradition. People would wrap up crappy presents, such as dirt scrapers, into festive packages to make them appear more valuable and appealing. Tward would grow richer from all the people clamoring to his trading cave. He would take their hard-earned earwax and, in turn, sell worthless crap such as yak antlers to hang hairy hats on.
Today, we see the remnants of this first Christmas. Stores get richer while selling worthless crap. People wrap up the worthless crap into festive packages to make them more appealing. Trees are killed so we can see them glow. Or, plastic trees are manufactured so our skies glow from pollution. People step on stuff, get hurt and half their hair gets burned off, while others waste time trying to figure out what their presents do and how to use them. And to think; it all started way back when with some hairy S.O.B. named Og.
