30 May


caveman photo:  captaincaveman.jpg
Owongo was sure the sun would return.

He was so certain that he chopped the bottom yard off his deerskin trousers and thus made a pair of shorts. They were his favourite shorts, and he was proud of them even though they were far from fashionable back then.

Owongo, you may recall, was a distant prehistoric ancestor of mine and the connection between us, via our DNA is simply that we both, in our different eras, choose to wear shorts whenever we can.

That’s why we’re both healthy. Everyone knows that sunlight helps the body produce its own Vitamin D. Both Owongo and I benefit by allowing the sun’s rays to rest on our legs whenever we can. And in addition a whole army of pests can be kept away from sensitive parts by the judicious wearing aof a nice pair of shorts.

Owongo was out in the wide open prairies that stretched across his homeland. He had Yongi with him. Yongi was a dear friend and brother of Mirumda, his woman, and they often went hunting together.

Every man went hunting in those far off days. It was how you fed your family. These days, of course, we use supermarkets, which can be considerably more damaging to your health that the good honest toil of hunting. Ask any caveman and he’ll agree with me.

Owongo and Yongi came upon a familiar figure, also hunting. It was Pasto, the witch doctor and general medicine man of their village, and they were shocked to see that he was hunting at all. The witch doctor usually told tall stories about the plethora of gods that controlled their lives (so he said) and in return was given riches in the form of left-overs by the simple village folk. But here was Pasto, crooked spear in hand, trying to hunt! It was unthinkable!

“Look at those trews!” whispered Owongo, pointing at the man’s trousers that peeped from under his ritual cloak. “He must be sweating his goolies* off in there!”

“Nasty,” murmured Yongi. “It’s much too hot to be wrapped up like that!”

“That’s why we’re wearing our shorts,” nodded Owongo. “For comfort and elegance,” he added.

Yongi was about to say something harshly critical about the sartorial choice made by the witch doctor when the latter gave a loud and certainly painful shriek, and started dancing around like a man demented.

“What’s got into him?” asked Yongi.

“I’ll ask him,” sniggered Owongo. He stood up and sauntered towards the still gyrating witch doctor.

“Pasto, my friend, what ails you?” he asked mildly, simulating archaic speech in order to be able to humorously recount the event when he got home to Mirumda.

“I have crabs on my goolies!” wailed the witch doctor. “Nasty pinching crabs. They must have crawled into my robes and made their way up my trousers, and now I’m being eaten alive!”

Owongo noticed that there was a strange series of movements in the man’s trousers, bumps that shouldn’t be there and crunching sounds that made the man howl in agony. There was only one thing he could do and that was deal with the problem there and then. So he took a big stick, whirled it about his head and brought it heavily into contact with the witch doctor’s crotch.

The suffering cleric gave an additional howl, grabbed his own groin and started weeping. At the same time a concussed crab fell out of his trousers and lay twitching on the jungle floor.

“That’s sorted that,” grinned Owongo.

The witch doctor merely wailed and cuddled his crushed goolies and staggered back in the direction of his cave where, rumour has it, he remained childless for the remainder of his days.

Which didn’t really matter because his own DNA was hardly the sort of stuff anyone would want drifting down the millennia from then to now.

Owongo nudged Yongi and grinned. “He should have been wearing shorts,” he murmured, “like sensible souls like us!” And he and his companion continued on their hunt.

© Peter Rogerson 30.05.15

*Goolies: British slang for testicles.



  1. georgiakevin May 30, 2015 at 1:08 pm #

    Your work is always fun to read!

    • Peter Rogerson May 30, 2015 at 2:48 pm #

      Thanks Kevin. I’ve just returned from holiday so don’t be surprised if Owongo doesn’t end up rafting down the Danube in the dark…

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