literature

Grunt Dance

Deviation Actions

shahriaremil's avatar
By
Published:
135 Views

Literature Text

A short while ago in a galaxy close by…

The story begins in a new world in that galaxy. A world where the age of dinosaurs have just ended, and the age of man has begun.

Around a large blazing fire, a group of primitives in loinclothes were dancing and grunting. Here on earth, it’s known as calling the ancient spirits, or ancestors. But since, there, they were the ancestors themselves, this was called grunt-dancing,  a revolutionary sort of dance in itself that would carve the path to break-dancing.

They circled around the fire, stomping their feet and striking the ground with their blunt and useless spears, their skin thick as rhinos and their brains the size of beans.

A lot more of stomping, striking and dancing later, they finally settled down. As they sat themselves around the fire, from a distance another primitive with a large long piece of wood came running towards them, shouting in strange grunts in hieroglyphic accent. As he got nearer, one of the primitives around the fire – who was apparently the leader, which could be deduced by the fact that he had the least number of teeth in his mouth, and the most number of teeth with the necklace around his neck – raised his hand and spoke in the same hieroglyphic accent.

The new man came forward and pointed to the long stick of thick wood and said some hieroglyphics words. He motioned to the stick that it could be blown, and handed it to the leader.

Upon examination, the leader saw that it was hollow inside with the top and the end open. He smiled and nodded his approval to the second man.

Here now, the second man jumped up and down in elation and threw away his only loincloth in the fire. This is where the phrase, “You don’t need pants for a victory dance” stems from, one would suppose. But, it should be noted that those immediate surrounding people might not be too fond of your special exhibition, and might decide that they haven’t had meat for a long while. Next thing you know, you’re being roasted for dinner, with an apple inside your mouth.
That was what happens to the stick man.

Back to the leader – he blew on one end of the stick and air rushed out, groaning. He frowned and confirmed the roasting of the stick man. He began to speak articulately (this is done by taking a chisel and pieces of stone or wood and engrave in what you want to say. It’s a very effective method, except that it sometimes takes days to say a simple sentence. But, of course, being the leader, this person was an expert) to the others, “We. Must. Evolve. We. Primitives. Far. Long. No More. Say. I.” That took three days (they had meat). The moon hung high above them and the stars numbered in billions.

The leader walked cautiously to the fire and sat cross-legged. Experimenting, he placed one end of the stick into the fire and the other on his mouth. With a thoughtful look, he inhaled taking in all the air inside the hollow stick. The hot fumes, smoke and dust and whatnot rushed through the stick, into his mouth. Ears steaming and eyes blood red, his heart burnt like hell.

With a large grunt, he said articulately, “I. See. Future. Don’t-” Before he could finish the rest of the sentence, which would have taken a mere single more hour, he died. They assumed he forbade them to breathe the stick. What the leader had actually wanted to say was. “Don’t. Evolve” He did see the future. A pretty sick one.

The others looked at themselves and grunted to each other, (a much faster form of communication) “We shall follow leader’s advice. As he said, we evolve.” One of them laughed out and said, “Who you to say what we do. I say, we evolve.” After several nights and days of turmoil and chaos, it was finally agreed that they would evolve. And in a fort night, they did. They were now dressed in tuxedos, used unnecessary walking sticks and had an attitude that said, “I own the world.”

The evolved primitives with their classy clothes and beautiful blonde women sat circled around the sculpture of the world. One of them, his hands clasped, with muttered sinisterly to the rest of the group, “I think it’s time we destroyed the eco system. My contact on Earth, some multinational company owner, says it’s a good idea. It should be a good idea. Look where he is – Multinational company owner!” And they began their long hard way down to hell, continuing the legacy Earthmen set upon then.

Strangely enough, even though their world had soon gone to hell, one thing remained. Something of pure beauty. Something that couldn’t be evolved, something that everybody did whenever they had the time, and it was their only Hope – Grunt Dancing!
One of my EARLIEST writings ever.
Inspired partly by Douglas Adams' humor style, despite it being very early stuff and unrefined, I still like it somehow...

Hope you do, too, despite its flaws.

Comments, criticisms, etc.
Comments7
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
nutboltu's avatar
i would have printed it again cause it's a lot of fun