Og

Og's Blog, Part 6

part of: Og's Blog

by Gabrielle Perreault

Raaaaaa! I, Zeela The Triumphant, have finally managed to get my hands on this confounded and coveted contraption. You’d think Og had been put in charge of it by the very Gods themselves, judging by how he would not relinquish it, parking his big fuzzy butt, night after night in front of the thing. Oh, No, no! I was not even allowed to touch it!

For the time, I have sent him off on a wild goose chase, of course knowing full well that they do not travel in these parts at this time. However, I swore to him that I’d heard the honking of their presence at the far end of the lake the other day, and promised him a special ‘surprise’ if he returned with this succulent quarry. At first he looked dubious. Ah, but warriors are so simple and easy to manipulate (she-men, invention born out of sheer necessity, not being quite as ‘helpless and empty-headed’ as our Neanderthal – UGH! – mates presume) – that glint in his eye easily betraying his barely-concealed wish for boring regular coupling (not my new kind), which I’ve denied him since that night (and while his addled brain was bewildered, he has been slightly more contrite since). A harmful enough ploy I say – perhaps I will even reward him. Just anything to get him out of my hair (which is a mess today! And Gods! I feel bloated!).
Someday, according to this ‘Googlating’ contraption, there will be such strange but wonderful and welcome things as Saturdays (whatever designations those are), as well as “hobbies, power tools, decks and renovations, garages, and Big Box Stores”, where one such as he, and his friends, can while away their free time (in other words, relieving US she-men!). Sigh. For tomorrow perhaps, I will tell him I spotted some Ena Bush up on the plateau – and he’ll be off again, on another “mission”, stroking his ego. It’s not like he’s any use around here – will not clean the bat droppings off the cave floor, replace the sand in the fire-pit, has not mended the children’s clubs, nor cleared the swamp brush, reminder after reminder, so that I’m not scratched to the thighs gathering water! He leaves his filthy and discarded skins in a heap where he drops them! Do I not have enough to do? What, oh what did I ever see in him? I think tomorrow, I will look for the Ena Bush (of course, otherwise sighted in other undisclosed regions – Ha!)