Queers of the Stone Age, or My Dinner with Homo Erectus

At dinner tonight (a Women's Freedom Center fundraiser at Fireworks), I was complaining (like I do) about having to eat multiple times a day in order to maintain the high metabolism of a warm-blooded mammal. I am missing the evolutionary characteristic of thinking about food between meals. I should have been a snake. Then I could eat once a month for about five hours, get a big kick out of it, and go back to living my life.

I suggested that, in the stone ages when there were no restaurants, I would have died already. Another friend, who wears glasses, worried they would also be dead, having been eaten by something big. Then it dawned on me that prehistoric us might have teamed up and saved each other's lives. My cave-buddy would remind me to eat, as I looked out for danger.

We think it would go a little something like this:

Haiku for Paleolithic Cooperation

There's no glasses yet
Hold my hand and run with me
There's a bear coming

Many hands make light work. And sometimes dinner.