penis extender
The Stone-Builders [By their Weapons] [Big-chest was a reluctant hero, for the most part, not really, it takes too much energy, saps you—in review, all was quite mysterious to me. Then unsuspected, he walked into the camp, tall as a mountain, hairy as a leafy think forest, long, a very long mouth from ear to ear, his teeth showed—he walked reminiscent of the king of the Stone-Builders [I think he was mimicking him—he like to do such things], he must have seen him walk, for he was arched just like their king, head back, eyes slanting down as if they were subordinates; --among the four he crept up, not a word, not a sound, the dark-dragging behind him, the sky had very little light given by the stars, but it followed him overhead none the less, a cloud covered the moon—as if he and Big-chest were pals; now he had seen their weapons by the fire, where the dead lion lay, if anything, Big-chest was shifty: sly, observant: he was swaying his body akin to the huge trees in a storm, not sure exactly why, but I think he intended to. As I was about to say, myself and Little-eyes witnessed this whole happening from a distance of course.
The Stone-Builders were full of what they called: ‘wone, or wine,’ something along that order, some sounds take me back a bit, they had new sounds all the time, yes O yes, inventing new sounds like the growing of leafs on a tree, coming into our brains like new winds, dragging it into a mode of thinking more everyday, instead of being fond of the birds, and just living: eating, sleeping and dying—these words we never heard of before were floating everywhere in the air, and not all that much leafy undergrowth for us to hide or for that matter to slap the chill away: nor for that matter to slap the chill away: nor for that matter Big-chest: although he had a special quality of seeing through a person to his evil side, as he could see through the Stone-People as well. I explained how one of the squatters as he was about to happen, and with his waving quick long arms, Big-chest picked up the seven foot lionesses, and put it over his shoulder, the crazy Stone-Builder charged at him, and Big-chest with a quick sweep, with a turn, knocked the man flat on his back, onto the ground, he had hit him with the man-eater, as he balanced it over his shoulder. Then, somewhat, disparate, or so it seemed, reminiscent of a dying fish jumping about trying to get back into the water—he: Big-chest—kicked him in the mid-section of his belly, sweeping him into the fire like trash, now almost a dead fish. The Soldier could not move, he surely had a broken spine I thought, had he not, he would had gotten up and run fast out of the fire with no suitable means other than his arms which were now on fire, Big-chest simply turned away from him as if he was going to fight him.
At this point I said, and Little-eyes thought: this was the end for him; he [the soldier] looked like a banana compared to Big-chest. I asked myself, for both myself and Little-eyes could hear his foot steps even in the woods, hair and sharp eyes, small squinty eyes pinned on the four Stone-Builders, at the camp site, and their man-eater, that was going to be his dinner. He was actually blocking our vision a bit, but I think he did that because he wanted to show his audience—which was us—who was the braver. I actually had some kind of a good time for the revenge to seep out, but I don’t care for revenge for the most part, that is, in killing the Stone-Builders; yet when he could, he did so of course, --but I say reluctant I suppose with reluctance; for it was not unlike everyone at this time to be disinclined to kill them, they seemed to be in the vein of the gods, un-killable: yet he killed them and fought them, But again, the man tried to move out of the fire with no suitable means other than his arms which were now on fire, for surely his ribs and legs were broken. Big-chest simply turned away from him as if he was insignificant, When Little-eyes and I returned back to the cave the following evening, we had told in our symbolic way: expressed at the Banana Cave that is, to the entire Horde how Big-chest had killed the Eve People. And you could hear the laughter for miles around. I tried to explain how Big-chest had seen or sensed their movements, their evil objective, and their killing intent: as he always seemed to be in the vein of the gods, un-killable: yet he killed them and fought them, more so than anyone else—less out of conviction than out of desire to avoid dishonor and social embarrassment for himself.] Said I [I, being: Short-legs], I had seen one time Big-chest walk into a campsite of theirs, the Stone-Builders that is, —I tried to tell this story to my brother, Stern-toes, once, but I never could explain it right, but I think he got the jest of it, if not the seriousness, As I was about to stand up, it sounded faintly similar to thunder, and I could hear it snap, and rip, similar to a timber falling after lightening strikes it, strikes a tree out of its roots, its stretching roots out of the ground. He fell on his chest, then pushing himself, flopped over and onto his shoulder as if it had nothing holding his head in place, like a dead fish flopping, jumping in a creek—he lost his inner breath.
The other one tried to get to his weapon, but Big-chest, akin to lightening, jumped with one leap over to him, picked him up by one leg, his penis showing, as Big-chest looked strangely at it, as if to laugh at a small ugly worm, for they all liked covering them up for some odd reason, he knew we were starving for some protean, and our bodies were starting to show our ribs. Aimless to say, this never happened again—not in such a quantity, but we all gave Big-chest a super big smile as we walked proudly out of our cave entrances, in the center of our domain, for us, it was a little unfair, I guess in one way I admired him for that, it was almost like some of the occupations the Stone-Builders had, or called occupations, which were really doing things by order of their king and getting fed by someone else because of the king—strange. Thus, Moss was our entertainer, and Moss did get fed by most of the time; they had well groomed weapons, and we had simply rocks and some clubs, along with a few sharpened stones, as they now were being called, knifes, up to the appearance of the Stone-People, they were just tools. And so it felt good if anything, good to penis extender see the odds turn for once, and to be frank, they didn’t turn much, if ever in our favor after that episode. But our surprise would come in the morning: --yes, we would not be forgotten for once. Morning In the morning when several of us looked out of our cave entrances, in the center of the canyon below our cliff dwellings, as we often did to be sure we were safe from man or beast, in the open area in the valley below, as there often was when someone or something new came about to celebrate, I had noticed from my cliff dwelling a gathering of the Horde, looking down, I quickly dashed along the sides of the cliff until I reached the floor of the valley to see what was in back of them; not sure if they heard him, sensed him, or just did out of an automatic military checking ritual,--whereupon, they almost went into shock: two stood up, all four were some fifteen feet from their weapons.
The two who were squatting, the closest to the fire, no one noticed him yet, can’t figure it out, no one, no one at all, --could they not hear him a little, just a tiny bit, I asked myself, ‘Is he crazy? Run, and run while you can,’ and I was on Big-chest’s side now, more than ever, but it didn’t sound like it for that split-moment, but I felt it was a good time to escape, if he could. But he didn’t, or couldn’t, nor do I think he got the jest of it, if not the seriousness, we did both laugh at the Stone-Builders for hours on end, afterwards. As I was about to learn we had better hearing than these new creatures. But then this new breed of course, can not have all the advantages, thank goodness, thus, our senses were better, we were tuned higher one might say, and they were tuned with more and a higher intelligence than we. His fingers now, almost touching the ground—I could see—he, he had long thick arms, and fingers, and perturbing muscles, he was impressive to look at, huge to digest with your eyes, and frightening if you did not see him on a daily bases, and dangerous to be around, at any time. Then all of a sudden two of the four turned their necks to see what it was, as did Little-eyes, as I had woke him, trying to outstare Big-chest, and got kicked into the fire, and he didn’t: or couldn’t, for Big-chest couldn’t run with the man-eater on his shoulder so it was a little unfair, size and all. But the man, whom I am calling a brave-soldier, stood his ground, and actually looked at Big-chest in the eyes. My-gosh, the man must have been half his size, about 175 pounds, quick on his feet though, for he was dancing around Big-chest, trying to stab him, and poke him. He looked more like a bee trying to sting someone, but that just irritated him more.
Big-chest had taken arrows out of himself one-hundred times before, I bet; arrows deeper than that knife would have ever penetrate, if the person had gotten a chance to lunge it into Big-chest, and he didn’t get that chance: and it never hurt him much: those pokes. These little wounds were nothing, --but should he leap and get a good stab possible in the upper chest of Big-chest, or eye, then I’d worry. To make a long story short: Big-chest just looked dumfounded at the figure in front of Big-chest as if he was insignificant, as I did myself. The defeat was predictable, and most unnecessary. I got thinking: what kind of creature fights when they cannot compete. It has always been the law of the land—to run, unless cornered: hence, when you can’t battle, don’t. It wasn’t necessary to die like that. I was learning about pride and arrogance quickly from these new creatures though; all in time and observation I told myself, and I’d be well informed on their unusual habits. 11 Early winter We had no way of knowing which winter would be good to us or bad for us, and winter this particular winter had come early, and therefore our food supply was exhausted, depleted that is, rather quickly.
When Little-eyes and I returned back to the Valley of the Caves, the strenuous walk; a walk many took to come back when they felt their time was short on this ground, like some fish, we all seem to know our dying ground; he came from the far off place, called the Great Cliffs by the Sea. I had only seen him when I was gone it seemed. They appeared to get along quite well, as one might expect, two strange folks to say the least; not sure what they had in common, matter of fact, if anything, one was lazy—my father, the other, Moss, was quite active I heard. The Great Sea But he did bring back information to his sister, who shared it with us, and of course he’d tell other people also of his journeys, or try to describe them best he could, and we were all quite interested in his tales—it was entertainment: yes he was a man of tales, I guess in one way I admired him for that, it was almost like some of the wind—the brisk, cold winds seeping by us, around us, and almost through us: the shrubbery covered us, as we remained in the distant woods, with a pile of leaves up to our knees: leaves for warmth and camouflage, --camouflage being a plan incase we figured we’d have to duck, hide ourselves-quickly should they get the best of Big-chest, but we doubted that: Big-chest was just the opposite of us----mean,--plus as always, Big-chest was confident of his abilities, he stood in the woods, no shadow—not sure what he did with it, but he was cleaver; just a big blob of muscle,.
