Urtah The Big

URTAH THE BIG

By Merrily McCarthy

A line of curious white apes were walking along the edge of a cliff. They are watching a small herd of great white Ox below. The earth trembles slightly loosening edge rocks that tumble and fall on the few Oxen. One good sized rock bounces and careens through the air, smashing down on the head of a great Ox. The animal falls over, bellows, then dies.

The white apes see this and screech and jump up and down. They look at each other with the dawn of enlightenment making uff, uff sounds. They pick up stones and hurl them over the edge of the cliff at the remaining Oxen. As the rocks tumble and smash along the slope, the white apes screech and preen and pose in postures of bravado.

As a few more great Oxen get struck and fall over dead, the apes reach a crescendo of excitement. Then they stop. They are quiet.

A second dawn of enlightenment pierces the tiny space between their brows and they sneak semi guarded looks at each other. One, more shy white ape, receives the thought and begins to shake and tremble. He begins to reach for a sizeable rock, but not quick enough. The other competitive white apes’ grab up bigger rocks and before DerDumb has time to hurl or duck, the others seize the moment and the whole group descends upon DerDumb to strike him with their hard stones, screeching all during the bloody frenzy.

DerDumb manages to hurl his rock, striking one member of the group before sinking to his knees at the edge of the cliff. The standing white apes ascend on him smashing his head and body with rocks as he gargles, drowning in his own red blood and becomes silent and still and cold like the stones.

The living white apes poke at him laughing and try to pull him up to his feet thinking in their primitive curiosity that they have done no harm. As the dead white ape rises, he teeters on the edge of the cliff, the living white apes loose their grip and DerDum tumbles in slow motion down the side of the cliff and falls, impaled through his chest on the solid horn of the dead great white Ox.

The remaining apes screech and laugh in delight. They notice the white ape, Tuf, who got struck earlier during their fun, and noticed that he was clutching his head where blood was streaming down.

Urtah, the biggest white ape remaining, picked up a sizeable stone, walked over to Tuf and landed his rock in dead center on top of Tuf’s head. Tuf let out a loud bawww and fell over very dead. The remaining two apes screeched, jumped up and down bared teeth and laughed. The dawn of deadly combat gleamed simultaneously in their semi savage urges, as they both reached for stones and rose together in one last battle to the death.

Each of the remaining white apes fought for the thought, fought for the new knowledge. They discovered that stones raised can make things cease to move and this became the sacred knowledge. One white ape would live to protect this new knowledge. He would take it to the rest of his tribe and he would be the big man. Urtah proved to be more vicious and posed, ready for the final battle of survival.

As Tuf succumbed, Urtah screamed his victory to the whole valley, canyon and world beyond their imaginings. The remaining white apes knew that a new discovery had been made and soon Urtah would return with the knowledge. He did more than that however.

Urtah descended the cliff. Removed DerDums body from the horn of the great white Ox and ate his way through the neck of the bison, filling on fresh Ox blood. The other Oxen milled close by blowing, snorting and watching out of their dangerous wild eyes, the bloody transformation from white ape to vicious blood crazed beast.

When the head was severed, Urtah lifted it to his shoulders and struggled back up the cliff, ascending upward, heading home to his noisy expectant village with his trophy. The trophy would bring him awe and the dismemberment power. The horns of the Ox he discovered could pierce the body of a white ape and make him cease to move.

Urtah had to demonstrate his new knowledge so what he did to get this coveted attention was to drop the head of the dead great Ox at the entrance to his cave. Urtah announced his arrival back at his place and the other white apes cringed in recognition of Urtah’s power over things that move and cease to be.

Gumlop came trundling up. He had a chronic ache in his head and so had become ineffective in his ability to explore or climb cliffs with the other male white apes, of who were a fewer less now. Gumlop in his customary pained position was groping his head shaking it back and forth screeching.

In order to waylay the position that weakness should not be misconstrued with real superior power, now that the emptiness of the bodies of the other white apes could be seen and felt by the remainder of his tribe, Urtah was compelled to make certain of his superior dominant stance, without question, even Gumlop’s weakness stood in his way.

Urtah quickly groped the nearest large stone, swiftly raised it over Gumlop and screeched loudly of his power and the power of the stone. He smashed, sending Gumlop to the ground where he ceased to move. The remainder of the tribe scurried around, poking, screeching and laughing at how the stone in Urtah’s hand made Gumlop no longer move and cease to be.

Urtah being the discoverer, explorer and always curious, wanted further satisfaction. He sought what was inside Gumlop’s head that made him screech in pain. This knowledge would give Urtah even further power within his group. Urtah reached his hairy hands around the gapping opening in Gumlop’s skull and ripped. The blood sprayed as he pulled apart the bones with his bare hands, spilling more blood and brains all over Gumlop’s face and neck and his own chest. Urtah stuck his fingers inside the mass of tissue and dug around. A look of amazement crossed his countenance. He could find nothing that could cause Gumlop’s pain.

He withdrew his bloody fingers, now covered in bright red goo and brain tissue and held them up for all to see. Nothing there to cause pain, you see! Then Urtah did the power acquiring move, he licked his fingers! Not out of hunger for blood, but to absorb the spirit of Gumlop and for Urtah to show his lack of fear over the weaknesses and Gumlop’s ceasing to move.

The tribes remaining members shrunk in awe at such power and spiritual dominance. Some cowered against the rocks, some hugged the rocks, some ran into crevices holding rocks. Some squatted, perching on rocks, like they were making love with the stones, perhaps to give rebirth to the stones or to Gumlop.

This manner of extreme submission was ever inspired by the dominant power of Urtah who had brought home the new knowledge, moving stones could make moving things cease to be, or not move, but the stones cold be moved, over and over again, and never ceased to be. Stones became a sacred object with a life of their own.

Urtah knew this new knowledge came from the earth. The earth had made the stones fly. The earth had made the stones fly through the air and strike the great white Oxen. Urtah was like the earth. He could raise the stones and hurl them through the air like the earth, and he too cold make things cease to be. The earth was sacred. The earth gave him knowledge and it gave him power. Urtah was the supreme white ape.

Urtah was having other urges at the moment. Aside from the aforementioned events he felt the food that had entered his mouth earlier, had now passed to the exit area of his body. Another sacred mystery. He put food in, chewed and it stayed inside his body and came out, eventually at the hole between his legs, usually when he squatted unceremoniously behind a rock or a bush.

Although he was usually finished in the time and space of a grunt, Urtah always noticed his excrement was either thin and wet, or solid and stank. The stank came from different foods he stuck in his mouth. Yet he knew other smells came from other animals and varied according to whom had done the excretions.

It all smelled different and he could tell who it was by the smell. Even if their were spies from other tribes around. He could smell their excrement as different from his own, or that of his tribe members.

Excretement was an identifiable body stamp, a way of deciphering who was doing what or who was close by. Excreting was a natural urge, not controlled, no devised, other than by the body itself and it’s natural processes. It was a tangible, given, never changing process, that Urtah had learned to expect and undetermined but occurring intervals depending always upon whatever he shoved into his mouth. The wait for the process was a learned measure of time. It was another of Urtah’s sacred biological mysteries. A fundamental truth he could depend on.

Urtah was more cunning than the others because he sniffed a catalog of odors, and had them tucked in his cranial skull, understanding he would use these smells to have knowledge of the animals systems surrounding his habitat. It was knowledge and the more smells he knew and could picture to what it belonged, the more power and dominance he had over his tribe and his neighboring creatures; such as the other humanoids, animals, birds, insects and creatures of other types. Urtah gained power through discovery and curiosity and experimentation.

Excretment was a special moment for Urtah. Beside the smell, it was hot, steamy and made shapes in the earth as it fell from between his legs, into the dirt. The shapes told him things. So he would sniff, stare at the shapes and hold the images in his mind. He would associate those shapes with the shapes he found around him in his world and this told him secrets and gave him clues to other mysteries.

Sometimes the excrement was puddles and loose, sometimes it was in small tiny pieces and sometimes in mounds and sometimes it came out in long straight round formations. Those, Urtah noticed were similar in form to sticks of the same size, broken off from the main body, like him, and he noticed they also looked like the dangle of his body where the water came from at other moments. All of this information took on a reverence and made a spiritual sacred connection for Urtah. This sacred knowledge was being given to him by his earth and his body, his white ape body.

On days where it fell, laying out straight Urtah would take the high dry paths that went straight through the trees or through the rocks. When it was loose and in puddles, Urtah would go by way of the waters, and flowing rivers. And when in bits and pieces he kept to his tribe. Urtah had learned to read signs from his body to give him necessary instructions that would bring him more safety and sacred knowledge.

Urtah noticed at times the dangle between his legs was firm and hard, both being the same thickness and length, he deemed this as a moment of extreme power and sought one of his females in his tribe. He had discovered the break in the body of the female white ape, unlike him, he had no break. This break in her made him feel the power to push his hardened dangle into her break until it released itself, and became soft. The female white ape, his mate, Ubo, would screech and struggle and bite into his neck, like he was trying to hurt her. Well maybe he was.

If long round hard things went into other white apes, what more power and knowledge could be obtained by Urtah. He recalled the great Ox, and Derdum being impaled by a shape that was long, hard and strong. Excretment, dried, could not make a hole through another white ape, and Urtah knew his dangler went in, but got weak, so he concluded he needed a horn or a broken stick or even a rock, some object that looked the same but was not connected to his own body and not able to easily change form.

Without covering, Urtah was squatting watching his excrement pass, and his dangler getting thicker and fatter, when in the midst of this meditation Gumlop’s angry brother Set, walked up, grunted, picked up a rock and crunched it atop of Urtah’s dangler.

A screech of pain from Urtah’s lips rang throughout the canyon. The rock damaged the dangler, but not irreparably so, and Urtah sought leaves and grasses to wrap around his dangler. The cool leaves and grasses eased the pain. Urtah was beyond angry. He had the look of a mad genius with blood lust in his eyes and as he worked and gathering things, the pain merely inspired him to greater creativity and levels of inspiration. Urtah had hit in his mind, a pain threshold that inspired him to a peak of greatness in the power of combining things.

He found a length of stick, or tree wood the exact size and dimension of his dangler and thereby spiritually got his, in symbolic style, his damaged dangler reinstalled. Perhaps just in proxy, or essence, but he laid the stick on the earth and contemplated a spiritual stone that could make Set cease to be.

How would he put the stick and the stone together? Long grasses or Ox tendons or Mammoth hair? Urtah found what he needed of the longest and the strongest fibers. He assembled his product, a first weapon, an object unlike all others known, yet totally symbolic in it’s intent and deed, for the sole purpose of converging upon Set and making him cease to be. An object of a shape and strength that would put Urtah without question in dominant position within his tribe.

Urtah, because of his pain, and great sense of superior experimentation, had given birth to the Blood Axe. A weapon whereupon his power to be determined, by it’s ability to make things cease to be.

Meanwhile Set was laughing loudly and screeching to the remainder of the tribe how he had snuck up on Urtah doing plops and had smashed a rock on his dangler, nearly flattening it. Everyone howled at the superior move. The group that was gathered around Set, saw Urtah moving up behind and toward Set. They saw his bound dangler and they became quieter and the extreme vision of measurement that determined the danger. Urtah’s arms were behind him, so no one saw the Blood Axe. It was made out of wood and stone and sinew and like Urtah’s dangler, held together by what he was. It was made to penetrate, like the dangler, a living body, in a measure of pain, anywhere it was directed. It was loose and could fly through the air like a bird, free, like a rock, strong and hard. It was a new and superior preparation make from Urtah, and their earth.

The smile dropped off Set’s face as he turned around and perceived the danger approaching him from Urtah’s closer and closer proximity. The laughter from the group ebbed and before he could screech or howl or laugh again, Urtah released his arms and flew them through the air with one grand sweeping curve, ramming up into Sets protruding dangler. The sharp edge of the rock connected with the soft white ape flesh and Set’s dangler flew off across the open space, landing in the fire pit.

A couple of female white apes Ug and Spaa, dove to retrieve the delicacy, not for reattachment, and affection for Set, but to eat Set’s member and thus gain his powers and knowledge. The member provided a tasty treat and Ug and Spaa gained Set’s fertility, virility and his power over whatever was left.

They knew not the meaning of affection, and could observe, Set, in a moment would no longer cease to be and that was for certain the plan carried on by the movements of Urtah’s momentum. Urtah sought his relieve.

The blood from Set’s body squirted in a geyser, spraying all the near bystanders and Set teetered in body shock, and horror, and dishonor at his own male dismemberment. The first blow had pierced the pelvic bone, sent the dangler flying and began a drain of blood that brought the white women apes howling eager to lick and gorge, in uncontained orgy. Never had they seen such as the power of Urtah.

In memory of Derdum, Gumlop, Set and the others they ran to find rocks in order to feel the power of the rocks and experience the new knowledge over making things cease to be, by their own strength and their own movements. They did not yet fully understand that if they used the rocks against each other they would not no longer cease to be and the knowledge shared by many would be lost to those who remained.

As the remainder of the tribe began to smash each other, downing men, children, women and the elders – Urtah screamed for them to stop. He could see and understand they were not ready for the power of the stones and in particular for the awesome Blood Axe. Like a bowling ball Urtah rolled across the camp, knocking stones out of hands, and hurling them into others, sending people flying, trying to stop them all from making each cease to be, after all, who would know or have knowledge if there was no one to teach, or to give the knowledge of the sacred ways of secret measures and silent pictures roaming in Urtah’s mind. Who would Urtah have for comforts? If there were no other white apes, the knowledge would die and cease to be, like the white apes. Urtah knew someone the thoughts were connected to his body and his actions and this was a gift from the earth and the sky and the rain and the fires.

Many of the tribe were smashed, mostly male white apes, many ceased to be, those that survived, Urtah assembled.

The dead bodies, unmoving, were moved. They found an empty caverns, and Urtah and the remaining members of his white ape tribe dropped them into the moist and dark recesses and placed them to set. Around them they skirted a pot and a tool and sacrificed small animals to lay and guide them in the world of unknown places. After this was accomplished and the work done, they assembled the rocks to the front as an entrance to their members who no longer were able to move and celebrated their remaining livingness. This they did and left, screeching and howling their conquest over life and over their new discoveries.

A birth agony screech came from under a rock overhang. Jut, a female white ape, a young member of the tribe, was giving birth. She had last laid with Set and this was a remarkable sacred event, connected to the break in the woman and the dangler of the man. It was the mystery of being and the manifold interpretation of mystical wonder.

White female apes were quite different than the male white apes. Yet not really primary in the tribe. But they could do things the male white apes could not do. They all ate food and that was a similar experience. It also exited their bodies in a similar manner, yet other substances did too. Other mysterious and strange liquids and moistures and smells. Urtah was privy to this sacred knowledge and the ways found in the differences, like the open wound between the female white ape, the unhealed space between her legs, and the food that went in, and the blood that came out after the time of so many suns crossing the sky and the way his dangler could pierce into Ubo, his mate, sometimes and later, after more moons of no blood, her stomach would get bigger and she would excreta a body that looked like a small one of him. This would cause him to screech in shame and he would run away to find Ox and herds of Ox and chase them to the edge of the cliffs and watch them fall and then he and the other male white apes would drag an ox or more back to the tribe where they would eat.

At this moment Urtah has a duty to provide to Jut. She had lost her mate and it was by his rock on behalf of his dangler.

Sometimes a rock would do, but this could only be performed by a superior dominate white ape, as Urtah’s position surely gave him. A suitable large smooth round rock, perfect for the job was located. Urtah moved into position by the woman giving birth. She opened her eyes in surprised recognition. Screeched in agony and birthing pain and watched in frightened horror as Urtah lifted, a few feet up from her swollen belly, the smooth round rock.

The idea was to use the rock as a drop stone and the weight and impact would help push the little white ape body out, that is if it was dropped when Jut’s body squeezed. Well, sometimes it worked. However if the rock was too heavy or dropped to far up it killed the female and sometimes smashed the baby too much.

Usually it terrified the young mother so badly it did not need to be dropped, and it would induce birth by fear.

The stone was held suspended by Urtah, the white ape female screeched, and the other attending female white apes, those that weren’t holding her legs agape for the baby’s initial exit, made an unprecedented move to stay Urtah’s release of the rock.

He snuffed a snort, lifted his right hairy white ape leg and placed his big foot on the top part of the abdomen of the birthing white ape. He stomped, she groaned and the baby flew out of the womb, with a splat into Ubo’s surprised hairy arms. She had fortunately been standing directly in front of the straddle observing the break and the movement of the womb, so she could signal Urtah on the right moment to drop the sacred birthing stone.

This was a lot of work and the white females apes usually just found a crevice and or rock opening and went in bumpy and came out flat and with squalling white ape infant bound up with grasses. But things were changing in Urtah’s presence.

The baby screeched. A new member had been added to help repay the debt of loss to the living on that day, even if it was from Set. Proudly, howling his joy on the release of new life Urtah stepped forward, touched the newborn hairy white ape, who grasped strongly onto the offered big hand. Urtah made a mental image of the strength and handed him his very own first tool, his Blood Axe.

The newborn white ape groped the handle and screeched a blood curdling howl. A new leader had come of age. New things had been leaned. Today was a good day for Urtah. Much had been accomplished and now he set about preparing his tribe.

The white ape infant was returned to his mother, and Blax began to suckle her teat, entwining his strong fingers into the matted breast hair.

Urtah turned to other matters. He gathered around all the tribe and instructed them to go to the hills and around the area and he held up his Blood Axe This he held up so they could look for sticks and stones and grasses and sinews to make their own weapon. If they wanted to live another day, they had to make their own Blood Axe. It would be used to hunt, to fish, to survive and otherwise, Urtah would use his Blood Axe to penetrate their livingness until they ceased to be.

The tribe member set out to do this duty. They new this would give them sacred power, like that of Urtah, and this sacred power would give them the way to keep their position or place in the tribe. Urtah set on display his Blood Axe so the White Apes of his tribe could copy his weapon. In doing this they were also using Urtah’s superior knowledge and what he had learned and gathered from the earth.

When they could not figure out the proper size, weights or lengths of ties to attach the stone to the stick he helped them. Urtah kept relating everything to his dangler. It was the unique measurement and the weight and the manner in which it would enter into the shaped opening between Ubo’s body. He could feel this power and he could recreate this same measure and power with his Blood Axe. It was meant to penetrate into the blood of all bodies and change the livingness in some way.

Example was Urtah’s quickest and most certain way of demonstration. So when one of the white male ape youths wanted to know how the Blood Axe worked, where it got it’s magic, Urtah showed him, as well the rest of the tribe. He cut off the youths axe hand, and as the other white apes screamed with delight at the bloody display, Urtah, with one deft blow severed the young apes head.

This again established the superior dominance and magic of Urtah’s place as the Big Man and his all powerful Blood Axe.

Urtah was the Big Man. No one dared contest this truth. As the sun turned day and the moon turned dark, so Urtah’s knowledge grew into unimaginable proportions, at least for all his known conscious realization. Tomorrow he would discover more.

As the days had passed so had more of the tribes food supply. The 20 or so members of his tribe consumed 2 to 3 Ox everyday. Then their were the thieves from other hidden wandering bands and the wild cats and the strange night howling beasts with glowing green eyes. Wild dogs managed to single out straggling oxen or lost calves. The herd was hard to keep up with at times. Urtah had much to look after, the tribe, his status, his power, his new accumulating knowledge, his female, Ubo, the heard of great white Ox, the roaming savages beyond the dark and other places he could not see; only heard the sounds on the swollen night winds. Often he caught their rank smells adrift in the crisp morning breezes.

There was the situation with the food supply and keeping their herd of white Ox in tact, growing and useful as a food source. And now their was the production of weapons made of wood, stone, and sinews, that would increase his tribes dominance and power and keep him in their sight as the Big Man. Urtah beamed, caught a hurtling rock and threw it back from whence it had come. He was awed by the power of his own strength.

He grunted. The watch fires needed tending. He and some of his tribe, Baw and Unnn, had broken sticks of unmeasured portion one day in fits of the baring of teeth and movements of rage, totally breaking down the tall green grass living on hard sticks. Broke it into bits of measurements and lengths, like danglers. They pushed, jumped, pulled and bit through the hard wood and let it lay in a huge pile just outside their cave entrance.

That night in a tremendous thunder and lightening storm came. Bolts of light shot from the sky striking boulders causing them to shatter and explode like projectiles. One shard had ripped open the belly of an ox She laid bleeding and bawling while the lightening struck all around her.

The cowering cave dwellers watched awestruck by the power of the light and the echoing voice from the clouds and the sky. They were afraid but did nothing to save the dying ox, who bled to death during the full force of the storm. They learned that the light forced out of the sky by the blackness of clouds, and the terrible trembling noise could change big rocks to small pieces, and those pieces could make living things cease to be.

Another bolt screeched down, tore into the broken wood at the cave entrance. Flames sprang up. The flames rose licking like little yellow tongues through the broken sticks. The hot red, and yellow fire began to eat the wood, turning it to burnt black ash. The cave swelled with gray swirling smoke and the tribe of Urtah coughed and sputtered but did not dare move lest the fire eat them also and the lightening strike their bodies like they had seen it strike the large rocks and soft belly of the white ox. The were afraid of the sacred powers of the above and the beyond.

At the time Urtah knew he had to break the spell of the magical powers of the earth and sky over them and beyond, so he grabbed a stick whose end was glowing orange, and to prove it would not hurt him he poked his cheek sending sizzling flesh and sparks into the air. He felt the pain and howled running out into the torrents of water raining from the sky. The cold wet gushed over him mulching the hot spot on his cheek and melting away the glowing stick to a black cold point.

This time Urtah poked at his foot. He howled again as it brought a gush of blood into the air. That too got washed away by the rain. But Urtah had learned something. He learned fire was hot, changed wood to ash and his meaty flesh to a smell that made him want to eat. He learned a pointed hot stick hurt and could enter his body like his dangler entered the broken part of Ubo’s body.

He went into the cave to find her. His stick and his dangler, both hard, were of the same length. One he knew he could turn to soft, the other he would find a place to poke it and it’s size would stay the same.

The fire at the cave entrance would be another matter. He touched a nearby rock. It was blistering hot, as the pain on his palm attested. This was useful information. This fire from the sky was very powerful and useful indeed. He must keep it. He set up tribe members that he called fire watchers.

These members were given the task of gathering and breaking sticks to keep the fire going. To keep the fire power it must never go out! With this eternal flame Urtah’s tribe would have the power of the fire forever, as well it’s power to change things and to hurt the livingness in his tribe or save them..

Urtah snuffed. He would look into the rock in the belly of the dead Ox. Perhaps this night be helpful, if he could keep it from happening to him.

After the intense storm he had the fire watchers secure the burning sticks. He told them to keep it burning by finding and adding more sticks. He went to find the dead great Ox. He had an idea.

Urtah secured Baw and Tet to help him drag the dead Ox nearer the fire. Together they began to dig into the soft warm flesh beneath the skin, pulling off strips of meat. Finding a burning stick Urtah stuck the meat on it and held it into the flames until it began to sizzle and change texture. He held it in the air for all to see.

After a the heat left somewhat Urtah bit into the smoked fired meat. It tasted inviting to him. He passed the stick with the cooked meat on it to UBO who had been watching with some interest. She bit into the meat of the Ox and smacked her lips.

She passed the stick and meat to Baw. After several of the tribe had tasted the new way of eating Ox. The others began to pull off their own strips of cow flesh, poke the glowing sticks through and cooking the meat in the fire.

Everyone approved of Urtah’s new idea for eating Ox meat and using the fire.

Besides loosing their accessibility to the Ox, Urtah noticed a decline also in who he knew and remembered of the female white apes in his tribe. Their appeared to be more males. Why, or where they had gone was somewhat of a curiosity to Urtah. He knew he needed to be surrounded by more cattle and more males who had mates.

This necessitated a visit to a neighboring band; Urtah had to replenish his stock and his band, one with food and one with child bearing companionship. He formed a plan.

In the morning before sunrise they would go visit the Craig’s, a tribe that stayed in a place up the valley down the cliffs and around the bends.

Selecting a small number of his tribe they set out before daylight. They reached the edge of the cliff and descended, easily loping the remainder of the way.

At dawns break they entered the Craig’s steep rocky lair. Down the gorge always they heard the rustle of Ox in the brush and an occasional beller of a startled calf. The Craig’s were still, some sleeping, some stirring in the morning twilight amidst grunts and snorts and the whistles of sleep.

Urtah and his group were going to catch them unaware. The plan was to capture the female white apes of the Craig tribe and their children, rustle up and steal their Ox and eliminate or scare away the white male Craig’s.

In as much that it was a surprise. It worked. The plan was aided by Urtah’s new weapon of power, his Blood Axe, prompted by the scent of females, who were greatly in demand back at Urtah’s camp.

The Blood Axe made the difference in the conquest. The male Craig’s were no match for the ensuing slaughter and the women and children were awestruck by the over whelming powers of the white apes of Urtah’s tribe. They quickly succumbed to the superior military advantage.

Urtah and his group drug the females and their offspring back to their camp. Their displeasure at the displacement was sounded through their screeches and cries into the mid morning skies. The women and children had been captured and forced into slavery by the aggressive and dominant conquest of Urtah The Big. They would provide mates for his men, the children slaves for his services. The Oxen would be chased into Urtah’s dwindling herds to help feed his tribe.

Life is good. Urtah let out a blood curdling scream at the top of the rise to his campground, putting his whole tribe on alert to their conquest and arrival.

They would be on the move soon.

The solstice gathering at Stone Henge would prove most useful this year. As others came from other tribes they would embrace Urtah’s new Blood Axe and honor his fire-bearers, his large herd of wild Ox and most importantly his large tribe of people.

They would raise fires and the Big Man would stand on the cross stones and scream his new knowledge and power to the stars and the changing position of the sun. They would eat and make trades of women, children, Ox, weapons and especially of knowledge. This would last a day or a week or a while, as the sun crosses the skies and the moon rises and the earth turns. They would erect a megalith and the standing stone would tell them it’s messages and what to do next.

After the gathering and the celebration of the tribes at Stonehenge, the new raised rock to mark this moments gathering to the solstices, the new stone was hugged and listened to.

The whispered message told the tribe to move to New Grange. New Grange was built by a tribe who it was believed connected the world of the past with the world of the future. And at just the right moment in time and space the light ignites the sacred door and the sacred tablet of disappearance and transformation. Urtah quivered in anticipation of this new adventure.

Compact Robotic Shelves

0219091134body-smashers

Iteractive Educational Architecture

Iteractive Educational Architecture

 

This is a city of the future.  It is built with the idea of educational purposes and for a few select highly intelligent dedicated learners.  Everything is programed and aimed at a specific educational goal.  If you have questions ask.

The Black Man Is A Teacher

This is a story of a black teacher trying to reach and teach in the hood.
Last modified: 02/21/2004
The Black Man Is A Teacher

By Merrily mcCarthy

the black man is a teacher
who stands proud and tall
he represents our culture
teaching the big boys and the small…

this is my classroom
i am the teacher here
if you want good grades
this is the pen i use all year
right now, get up off your chairs
stand up when your name i call
today your learning starts
not after leaves have left this fall
jones, foyer, ferrett, beauyette
beamer, boyd, brackett, and kempt
johnson, jackson, sams, and swept
collards, pinto and hamhocks tonight
you boys stand straight thats right
you all are lookin like players
my dream for you, a class of mayors
put your colors out to walk
open your mouths an learn to talk
start undressin for success
take off your armour, not your clothes
at my door your BS turns to blest
put, you suck, into the bag
or the words fuck you in my ears
you’ll discover biology with sudden fears
say, look you stupid bitch
its hello to my light switch
get rid of, hey fool, right there
in this classroom i’m your teacher
i am the head who makes the rule
don’t ask, whats up fool?
or let loose lips say, youre gay!
or flip that kid, with your bird finger
cause, i don’t fly in my room that way
when i ask you to co-operate
you do it or you get out
i don’t run my class halfway
i ain’t teaching you lessons on doubt
i was born a proud black man
i earned the right to teach you today
so all you homies, border to brookline
from hoods rinsed in whine, step this way
you tapped out gangbangers
strip down naked to the core
or i don’t want you in this class no more
drop your armour, your weapons n gun
my metal detector will jam you son
this ain’t no playground for your uzi
you gots no rights to being choosey
stand before me pure and clean
souls for righteousness not mean
you feelin me in this scene
your plates of knaffs you poke in fun
the poor, the weak and those unable to run
remove your punk ass thinking
kick your rude assness out the door
use your feet to walk in, to learning
not for hustlin, pimpin, and gettin score
drop your sic-ass comments
into the gutter where they belong
listen to my lessons as they come along
in here we learn and use proper english
all else classified under one word: bore
i am your black teacher everyday strong
in my world we all belong

 

Island of Diversity In The Sea of Poor

 

Island Of Diversity In The Sea Of Poor by Merrily Ann McCarthy

 

 

where are we at…
Last modified: 03/09/2004
Checkpoint America
Land of gathering masses
Tickets bought
Organized stadium event
Football, basketball
Fairground, convention
United States of Gathering
A drop in The Sea Of Poor…

Checkpoint contrast, England
Hundreds of thousands
Stood solemnly mourning
Diana, The Princess of Wales
A sea of flowers, soft petals
The reverberation of watery waves
Echoing tears of the lowly
Into the Sea Of Poor…

Checkpoint Rome
Catholicism’s high mass
The square filled by doughy dots
Supplicants in prayer
The Pope, his quiet pleas
Embrace the moaning crowd
In crye, Elysium, Elysium
The Sea Of Poor sounds…

Checkpoint India
The Ghangis River streams
Starving barren bodies dip
Receiving hopeful blessings
Wishings, to be pure and clean
A river of fetid flesh
The seekers slip into wanton waters
The Sea Of Poor rises…

Checkpoint China
Throngs mill, spilling
Resisting, sacrificing, making
Room, or space a destination
Like a flock of sparrows
Flowing one way, then another
Sky bound, air soaring
Spirits in the Sea Of Poor…

Checkpoint Africa
Mewling people in pain
Somali’s, Aids, their masses
Suffer not understanding
Inhumanity of human disease
They wait, The Red Cross
No medicine to cure them
Receding, The Sea Of Poor dies…

Checkpoint Iraq
Unruly non-governing
Bodies of heat power grappling
With no consistent vision
They gather in hungry chaos
Gunfire, explosions, death
Hot oil boils thru the compromises
The seething Sea Of Poor cracks…

Checkpoint Latin America
The gathering of largesse labours
Maintaining, producing, business
Hard work efforts equal results
Building industrial foundations
Upon this large gatherings depend
Our future brown like our earth
The Sea Of Poor firmly entrenched…

Checkpoint Cyberspace
A new United front, Born
The country of Celluloid
Electronic media, DVD land
Turn it on, the crowds gather
With Passion, Rings, and Wars
It is the land of salvation
Hirelings swim in the Sea Of Poor…

Waiting for passage…
Across The Sea Of Poor…
To the Island Of Diversity…

by Merrily McCarthy
copyrightmmccfresno2004

 

 

Bread Pudding

Some foods remind us of some people…there is just something special about Bread Pudding…
Last modified: 06/17/2004
Bread Pudding

By Merrily McCarthy

Bread Pudding, warm from the oven
Made with fresh eggs, white milk
And definitely sweet cane sugar
That is what she is like…

With a sprinkle of raisins
Thick yellow egg custard
Coddled between
Fat lumps of white bread
A teaspoon of nutmeg
Maybe a dash of cinnamon
For certain a splash of rum…

She is like that
Warm Bread Pudding!
Delicious and inviting
Curves of tender crusts
Composed like smiles
Dark drops of raisins
Eyes glowing like coal-chunks
Custard dimples similar
To those upon her chin
Pudding, warm from the oven
But cooled slightly
Served with tasty deli cream…

You can still savor
Her fragrant brown crust
Like her late summer tan
White bread sitting sopping
Absorbing the gooey
Eggs and milk and sugar
The way she sits
Saturating herself
With your hungry
Needful soggy emotions
Offering yet giving less
Than getting more
Feeding you tiny tasty bites
From her delicate silver spoon
Tempting, seducing, opening
Her sponge-bread pores
While cradling
Bread pudding in her lap
Snug between
Her round thighs
That resemble
Tan bread crusts
Curving in the yellow custard…

She is so like bread pudding
White and soft and warm
So like bread pudding
You want to eat the entire bowl
Nestled between her folds
Fully absorbed…

 

When Water Bleeds

when water bleeds

 

by Merrily McCarthy

cross legged
on the floor he sat
his thin body
resting against the wall

counting his money
his troubled eyes burned
saying words unspoken
of passions and desires
his shyness did not speak

finally he labored sound
I, have a headache
my head hurts bad
too much tension perhaps?

the problem easy
an ordinary solution
take a nice warm shower
thats what I do
to relieve stress

yeh I go home,
and do that
water, a shower
would be good

I wonder, are
these headaches
from me
you think?

his headaches
not caused by me
maybe an emotion
apparently
this he could not see

why give you headache
then heal it with water
I am sorry, but
are you superstitious?

the young man
sat folded by the exit
contemplating his hands
quietly he says
be careful
like I am in danger
the concern drips
like the solitary
trickle of blood
from a broken vessel
in his nose
it was the heat

it had been a hot day
and he had ignored
hydration principles

as the blood fell
quickly he got up
going directly to me
like a magnet
for salvation, for care
it was his blood
I was there
it was the timing
but he had first
thought of me

I handed him
a toliet tissue
all I had
for a wipe
my reaction
quick and of service
I was honored
he had come to me
for help and his need

I suggested a cure
you have to drink
more water
in this heat

he thought I had
given him headaches
made his nose bleed
but my healing method
the same, use water
a shower, bathe the outside
drink, soothe the inside
it was just nature
not dark magic

I washed my mouth
spat into the sink
the water faucet ran
the water gushed forth
for a brief moment
blood streaked in the water
mixed together
for no apparent reason
out of nowhere
blood and water
flowed together
it was red in the clearness

when water bleeds
who will heal the water

he brought
this to my attention
it was cheng tao
(the correct way)

Negro

they called me monkey face when I was old enough to climb the red berry trees up the hill…
 

Negro

By Merrily McCarthy

The only Negro I ever knew

As a girl in high school

Was a large black-skinned man

Who hid out in a labor camp

There must have been a least ten wood cabins

Built close to the river beneath the tall poplar trees

He was the only human we ever saw there

But everyone said he was not very smart

Once in the while he got on our bus

He’d be wearing coveralls, the blue jean kind

Exactly like my own Dad wore, no difference

He was indeed big

And took up a full two seater

At the back of the yellow school bus

Charles was always grinning

And starring with his big dark eyes

Maybe I wasn’t too wise but

I always thought he was beautiful

And I had a strange attraction…

I graduated from high school

Did he? Dunno. He lives in the camp.

Some time passed… A summer

Filled with bailing sweet alfalfa

And stacking it up in the creaky old tin roofed barn

Daddy wore coverall’s, blue jean kind. No difference.

If his skin had been darker

As it sometimes was from hot summer sun

His nose wide. His lips full. His dark black eyes.

Shorter. The Mongols, the Pirates, the Traders; all left their genetic markers

My Dad’s ancestral heritage from the Azores’s.

Yes, black blood runs deep

Negro. In college there were some.

They were all in athletics. In sports.

But there was on guy Bawana Bajuwa from Africa

He was taller and talked to me everyday

With grapes in his mouth to keep

His tongue down so he could pronounce letter R

Otherwise his tongue would flip in Swahili dialect

He always carried a bunch of grapes

For this purpose

He was pleasant and used to talk to me to learn English

He was African. Not Negro

He made me laugh

I graduated. I changed.

My life changed dramatically

No Negro for a long time

Sometimes I’d see them out on the streets

Like an ethnic delicacy, a licorice twist

A different color among the pastels and parfaits

In Utah I never saw Negro

I heard about Negro. He was not allowed in the Mormon Church

Back Then!

On the news. Martin Luther King.

In the south marching for freedom

I thought Negro was free

They didn’t want to be slaves

They didn’t want to sit at the back of the bus

They wanted to use the same toilets.

My Dad’s Dad was a slave. He never complained

He died a slave, not complaining

I listened to Negro music

Spiritual. Gospel. Nat King Cole.

The Imperials. The Temptations.

The Supremes.

They weren’t Negro

They were black.

We could not use the N word

We were afraid to be who we were

We could not sing like them

But we had to listen

If we did not we were given The Label!

We were white. We were prejudice.

We were no longer Americans

We were racists.

We were also crowded into a corner

And made to feel we could not express ourselves

They were saying what they thought, but we could not!

We found comedy and laughed at Redd Foxx

I watched Sanford and sons

They were black, rich and famous

They were allowed to speak freely

But white people were told we could not

This was wrong

Americans were afraid

Americans afraid of being who they were

White Americans subtly pushed out

They were no longer free

They had to watch themselves

They could not say the N word

Among other words and share their thoughts freely

Sharing as

People. Not white. Just people.

The country belongs to us all

That is what I used to think

I listened to Lou Rawls

Yes, love is a hurting thing

I crashed his show at Caesar’s Palace

And danced naked on his stage in front of thousands

I lived with HB Barnum

And laughed mirthfully under the bed covers with Mooney

And fell in love with Lauris

Their Black Jamaican housekeeper

They were all Black; not Negro

The N word died

Divisions disappeared

They were a few

And people to me

Time went on

I danced with a black girl onstage

She was amazing, fascinating even

Exciting.

Black girls were beautiful

Nor more beautiful than other girls

A tide of blackness swept America

In Philadelphia I walked, a lone white girl

Staring into the faces of a black

Milling throng, a community of shoppers

Things had changed

I was out of place

They stared at me

I could feel their anger

Their racial resentment

Rolling like treacherous currents

I shivered at the hostile content

Worried. Dreading each step

I considered, will they let me live,

Or kill me now because

They hate white American people

Suddenly. Why? What did I, we do?

I only know you are Black

Are you running away from – Negro?

Today I hear you sing

You rap – profanity, sex, and

You call each other “nigger”… why?

A word I never use. Why?

Why then are you offended

When you hear it from someone other than a Negro?

What is to prove by this turn of events?

Hypocrisy is a word we all know in English.

Negro, Black, you speak English.

It is our common language.

We all live in America

You hate. You kill your own children.

You rape your own women.

You commit street crimes.

Why? When did you change?

I knew Katie. She had long hairy arms.

She hugged me like the orangutan she was.

She stuck her tongue out at me and loved me.

I knew King Fat. He wore a hat with a leopard drape.

He had a table spread for a king with a heart of compassion.

He took me in, fed me and made sure I was safe.

I knew Lilly. We lived together.

I took her shopping. We shared bread together.

She was soft spoken and gentle with my children.

They all loved me.

A long time ago.

The only Negro I knew

Lived in a camp, dressed like my Dad

And they said he was retarded.

It was 1952

We owned one television

Sammy Davis occasionally sang

He was not a Negro. He was black. The skinny black guy.

With two Italian guys.

Lawrence Welk entertained

New white stars discovered.

More shows moved across the screen

More stars appeared. Some Black.

More Black. Ophra.

Black singers dominated.

It was no longer Negro gospel.

They were Black Gospel singers.

Black wealth grew. Black communities bloomed.

What emotion dominated this motivation…this cultural development?

Was it love?

Or was it anger, aggression and

The hostile takeover of America?

Was it love?

Or was it greed and the desire

For revenge and accusations

And years of social aggreviement and punishment?

Was it love?

It was 1600

The Azores Islands

The pirates landed

They plundered and raped

The Mongols landed

They plundered and raped

The English landed

They plundered and raped

Every trade ship that passed

The Azores

Plundered and raped

Until my grandfather, born

And left, an indentured servant

Landed on Ellis Island, took a train to California

To serve a lawyer. And learn the laws of the new land, America.

When I was little once

My Dad showed me my Father’s picture

He was tall and dark and looked

Like a Negro

And he suffered

And so do we.

And movies changed to more Black faces

(Not like the white face with tears on the cheeks)

(But Black face with no tears and a hard eye.)

Their voices they use to fool you

Soft and low and consoling and distracting

While long monkey fingers and warm hugs

Ripple through your pockets stealing away your hearts and your money.

Being black became a reason to sue someone

You weren’t an upstanding black person

Unless you had a lawsuit pending

And procured a big financial reward

For your aggreivement

To be a hip Black? Does that mean

Profanity and sex talk

To a good musical rhythm

The best you can do with English language

This is a hip Black?

Does that mean your profession

Is as pimp and or star HO?

To be a hip Black? Travel:

Prison your destination of choice?

Some inmates like to paper fold booties or picture frames

You like to place 3-D pinups on walls

While grilling them with your balls

Or do you hold your

Self righteous indignation in a cup

Offering a taste to all your casual contacts?

Hmong Technology

Hmong Technology

by merrily mccarthy

bead work on
costumes and clothes
embroidery on
story cloths

lint from a friends
pocket healing a cut
toothpaste for
your burns and scars

tether balls made
of plastic bags
suspended from
smooth tree trunks

a plastic bucket
cut down to size
making a hoop
nailed to tree branch

thin young women in
thinner fabrics,
ladies proudly sporting
flower print dresses

Hmong air conditioning…
colorful patterned umbrellas

apartment lawn and
patio flowerbed converted
to a microscopic barnyard
and food garden with herbs

a roost for the cock
to crow and pig to grunt

garages become
makeshift kitchens
filled with large
families and utensils

numbers of glittering
metallic pots and pans,
each supported by
a heat source

many Hmong squatting
conditionally chew,
eating raw food
prepared and redone

a low table covered
with woven matt, then sat upon
by sarong wrapped men,
mostly playing games

of intellect or chance
chess, cards,
scrabble on boards
brain to, hand two

surface, a dance.

an intimate gathering
of Hmong intensity
a social dynamic…

mass transportation
a streamlined econo-van
Hmong us technology…

check this box

Check This Box

By Merrily McCarthy

FADE IN

EXT: MIDDLE OF INTERSECTION SURROUNDED BY STREAMS OF PEOPLE – MIDDLE OF

THE AFTERNOON.

Stew , mid 40’s, wearing homeless get-up, bedraggled beard is twirling in middle of people and talking to

his friend Lue, a neatly dressed Amer/Hmong . They are walking and talking.

STEW

Look at me! Do you know what I am?

LUE

Huh? What do you mean?

STEW

Do you know what I am?

LUE

What the tarnation are you talking about?

Stew poses and prances.

STEW

What do I look like to you?

LUE

Look Like? You look like a guy. A dude. My friend.

STEW

No. No! That is not what I am talking about! My ethnicity man. My

background. My country!

LUE

Oh That!

STEW

Yeh that. My country. Who am I?

LUE

Gees, you want me to look that hard?

STEW

That’s what I’m asking!

LUE

I dunno. I never thought about it.

STEW

Well why not? You take me for granted?

LUE

Well no but…

STEW

But what – we live here.

The pair have walked across the intersection and up the crowded street in this non stop verbal exchange.

They now have reached an old apartment building and are standing in front of it, still talking.

LUE

Look man, what’s this all about? I didn’t start this, you did!

STEW

I’m just bugged.

LUE

Bugged about what?

STEW

Applications!

LUE cracks up laughing

LUE

All this is about applications?

STEW

Yeah! Applications.

LUE

Applications to what, man?

STEW

Work!

LUE

Work? You got to be kidding me.

STEW

Yeah. Work.

LUE

Alright. What’s up?

Now they are standing in front of a Post Office. A long line reaches down the street. It is filled with ethnic

appearing people. Mexicans, Blacks, and Asians and a sparse sprinkle of white women. They all have

small children in tow and the children are pulling and screeching and reaching. The two men talk to each

other ignoring the background.

STEW

Well, I have been filling out applications.

LUE

And?

STEW

And, I found out I do not know who or what I am!

LUE

Goosh man! Explain your self!

Stew is grabbing his head and pulling at his hair.

STEW

What I am. What I am. You know, all these years…all these years, I

have always assumed…

LUE

Assumed What? What is your problem?

STEW

Look. I’m having a real hard time right now. Even telling you this.

LUE

Geez, what it is man?

Stew, perplexed strokes his chin.

STEW

You are not going to believe me, so I got to tell you right. How can I

do this?

LUE

You calling me stupid?

STEW

No, no, not that!

LUE

What then?

STEW

How long have you been filling out applications?

LUE

What!? Are you kidding?

STEW

No, how long?

LUE

Years. All my life.

STEW

Exactly. You know what, so have I.

LUE

So.

STEW

I think we have been missing something!

LUE

What would that be?

STEW

On the applications.

LUE

What on the applications?

STEW

This is very scary. All these years. And I didn’t even realize it!

LUE

Is this a private conversation you are having?

STEW

No. I will tell you. But you might not want to know.

LUE

You think I will freak? The suspense is killing me.

STEW

Maybe. Look…

SONG: APPS AND FORMS

We all have apps and forms

Apps and forms

Apps and forms

We all have apps and forms

We keep them in our dorms

We fill them out during storms

They are for school

They are for work

They are for play

We fill them out

Then we pray

Please, please don’t

Throw our apps and forms away

Impatiently Lue drums table or a surface.

LUE

I’m waiting. And this better be good!

Stew takes a deep breath and begins.

STEW

You my friend, are not an American.

Lue laughs and laughs more.

LUE

What? What are you talking about. Of course I am an American and

so are you. You are more American than me. You got a beard and

look homeless!

STEW

No you are not American, and I can prove it. We don’t even have a

country. We aren’t even a race. We have no culture. We have been

fooled by the writers of forms and applications.

Now, the two talking and walking men are in front of Kinkos, and Kinkos is next to the hall of justice, and

the hall of justice is next to the Police Department, and that is next to another Kinkos that is next to a small

family owned StarBucks. The walking and talking and posing and gesturing continue. The dialogue gets

more heated and intense.

LUE

Now I am intrigued. How can what you say be true?

STEW

Somewhere, over the last few decades we have over time lost our

heritage. Lost our country! And right under our noses.

LUE

How?

STEW

Let’s look at this. A few decades ago millions of people came here

from other countries. And still come here from other countries.

LUE

Go on…

STEW

Once on shore we were welcomed to a land we learned had the name

America. But since we just got here, we were not called Americans,

we were labeled foreigners.

LUE

Yeah…

STEW

We were called British, or Scottish, or Irish, or Spanish, or Italian, or

Russian or German or Arabic or whatever. Maybe even Portuguese!

That is all we ever heard!

LUE

Sorta. But that is not all we were called.

STEW

Yeah, if we lived on the other side of the tracks in the ghetto, they

threw names at us, like chink, spic, chicano, Mexican-monkey, the

negrows, portagees, wasp,. We were named and labeled alright! But

do you see my point! On top of that we were told to “go back where

we came from.” But they didn’t mean a street or a town, they meant

“country!”

LUE

Sure. If you move here to live, even your next door neighbor thinks

of you as being from someplace else, but not from here. We are never

from here.

STEW

That is it. We always get questioned, “where are you from?” So we

begin to think, duh, if they are asking me where I am from, I must be

from some other place, but not here. This creates an automatic mental

note. A displacement if you will, from where our bodies are at. So we

are thinking, “I thought I lived here”, but wait a minute, I guess not. I

had better make someplace up and it can’t be a city or state. What are

they asking me for? Oh, that is right! They don’t realize I am here yet.

LUE

But , maybe it is not a city, state or even a country. Oh, I get it. You

are thinking of a cultural background, , oops, race aren’t you?

STEW

Now you get part of it. Closer anyway. If you look strange or

different, they think , “he can’t be from here…so he’s gotta be from

there, or somewhere other than here!” And from what substance does

he come from?

LUE

I know you. You live here. You are an American!

STEW

Ah ha. So you say!

LUE

You have a birth certificate.

STEW

True!. But it is confusing isn’t it. Yet the reality is, we have been

being mentally displaced for decades and subtly lead to believe we are

not really here. We are always someplace else or of some other origin.

Except for the Indians! We have been lead to believe we are not even

citizens in our own country…the country we where too, have been born

and raised.

LUE

It is the mystery of origin. How can they do that and get away with it?

STEW

Them? It is not just them. It is all of us doing it together. It is how we

think. Maybe even how we are trained to think in school. Maybe that

is part of them, but still. We all are responsible. It is also how we ask

the question: Where are you from? And what we mean when we give

the answer!

LUE

I get it. It started and we didn’t stop it.

STEW

Suppose….or maybe just think it through.

The two men are now paused and gawking at the City Hall which is next door to a huge International Food

Market Place. Cars, Carts and Shoppers are buzzing past, in and out, in and out.

LUE

Not my country! That is a trip. I was born here. But I am still not

from here. I look Asian, so people ask me “where are you from”…they

say ,you know, “ what country?” I should be considered an American

because I too was born here. But they don’t ask me like that, they want

to know, why do my eyes slant, why am I small, why am I Chinese.

And why don’t I go back to where I came from. But I do not know

anywhere else either!

STEW

That’s not all.

LUE

There’s more?

STEW

Sure. Lot’s more. Forms.

LUE

What?

STEW

Forms. Applications.

SONG: APPS AND FORMS

We all have apps and forms

Apps and forms

Apps and forms

We all have apps and forms

We keep them in our dorms

We fill them out during storms

They are for school

They are for work

They are for play

We fill them out

Then we pray

Please, please don’t

Throw our apps and forms away

The two men are now walking past the Unemployment Office of the Counties. People are lined up.

Minimum wage earners, dressed in an attempt to impress. They have used their limited dollars to do this so

they look incongruent. Tow trucks are in the parking lot taking cars to the impound lots and the Police are

scribbling tickets in the background. The two men are in dialogue.

LUE

What’s wrong with those now?

STEW

Well, locked up in the Form and Application vault in Washington DC

is the original form and application that started it all. It contains the

formula for the dissaperance of our race, culture and country. It is the

model or map everyone today uses to seek out and destroy race, culture

and country. Some bearded old dude sits at a giant oak desk, quill in

hand writing forms for us to fill out. It is the same formula and form

we all use and have used for decades. It has not changed.

LUE

Why would he do that?

STEW

He was commanded to do it.

LUE

What did he do?

STEW

He created a governor through the writing of forms and applications.

A secret system to control the people and direct their reproductive and

economic activities. He wrote the first form that messed it all up. Or

the form that took the advantage away from the people. They all

thought he was doing them a service. But that is not what was up.

LUE

What do you mean?

STEW

It’s the other part of the confusion. Or confusion fusion!

LUE

And that would be?

STEW

It’s on a box or inked on a line. It is part of every form and application

in existence.

LUE

How can something so meaningless, create so much damage?

STEW

It is written on every dollar we use, “In God We Trust.” We are

required to close our eyes and not think. We are told to follow the

instructions and just do, and follow some more, and fill out the lines

and answer the questions. We are not supposed to question our

destination. We are simply instructed to go along with the program.

Now it has become over time, the retroactive effect of exponential

expansion of the effects of 250 million people repeatedly filling out

these ridiculous mundane forms. The employers already have all the

answers. Give them one number and they can learn whatever they want

to know about a person.

LUE

What number is that?

STEW

Your Social Security number.

LUE

Are you serious? You mean that number tells it all and over time the

problem just gets huge!?

STEW

Yeah. Big Time. Like on the forms.

They are now walking inside a very busy shopping mall or complex or inside a printing facility. Behind

them is lots of activity and lots of reproduction and commotion.

LUE

Forms? What’s up with them?

STEW

They get passed around a lot. The information gets shared. Forms and

applications are like a disease. They repeat the same questions. They

repeat the same disease. Over time everybody gets infected. But no

one knows they got a disease, because it is a mental disease. It’s who

we are. We have become a social problem. And no one knows where

it came from. So they can not cure it. At least, not right away.

LUE

You mean like your name, address and social security number?

STEW

No. Well yes, and more. The forms and applications that contain

questions about race.

LUE

Like who runs the fastest?

STEW

No. Like “what country are you from”. Buckle up my friend. We are

going for a drive.

LUE

Where we going?

STEW

Inside your head! My head! And the heads of our, uh countrymen.

LUE

Oh, I want to go. Take me there. Tell me about the forms and

applications.

STEW

Haven’t you ever noticed it?

LUE

Noticed what?

STEW

What they are doing! With the forms. On the forms!

LUE

I guess. I don’t pay as much attention to those details as you have.

What are they doing?

STEW

Have you ever paid attention to the little box?

LUE

There have been lots of boxes in my life. Which ones are you talking

about?

STEW

The box that asks questions about your race. On forms and apps.

LUE

I don’t race.

STEW

That is what I mean. You don’t race!

LUE

You mean about my country of origin?

STEW

Finally! That is the correct question.

LUE

What about it?

STEW

Don’t you ever have thoughts about it?

LUE

No, no thoughts. I fill it out.

SONG: CHECK THIS BOX

Check this box

Check this box

That is what they said

Check with pencil or ink

With speed, don’t blink

Just check don’t think

What it says

Is totally right

It can’t be changed

At least tonight

Check This Box

They want to know

Where you are from

And where you go

Is America

Your country or not

Just check this box.

Stew and Lue are seated at the dining table of the facility. Other employees are eating food in the

background and serving themselves and moving around. Stew and Lue are engrossed in their conversation

with each other.

STEW

That is what I mean. You fill it out and don’t think about it?

LUE

Why should I think about it?

STEW

You should !

LUE

Why? I check the box and I don’t think .

STEW

Why don’t you think about what you are checking?

LUE

I’m in a hurry. I check the box and I go on.

STEW

Then you forget about it?

LUE

Yeah. I check the box and then forget about it.

STEW

How can you do that?

LUE

With my pencil. My pencil is usually sharp. Sometimes I use my pen.

I check the box with these tools.

STEW

No not that! Not think about it?

LUE

It’s easy. I just don’t think!

STEW

I do! I think about it.

LUE

I don’t, so get on with explaining the thinking part.

STEW

What am I thinking about?

LUE

Yeah. What is so important about those little culture boxes.

STEW

AH ha! Now you said it!

LUE

What? What did I say?

STEW

Culture. What is a culture?

LUE

My country? My background of origin?

STEW

Well it could be that. But considering what the word culture means in

science…

LUE

OH! Now it is science!

STEW

Sure that is what it is. That is what it is all about. The science is

culture. A culture is what scientist make in a dish. Forms do the same

things, only they put our culture, or “ we the people“, in the box.

LUE

You have got to be kidding me!

STEW

We are kids.

LUE

What about the box?

STEW

We are kids in a box. There used to be a book about 50 years ago, it

was called The Boxcar Kids. Ever hear of it?

LUE

No. I’m Chinese, I was not around 50 years ago. I don’t read

American books. Anyway, what about these kids?

STEW

The kids, us, we all play in the box. The box on the forms and apps.

We make choices in the box. We get all mixed up in these boxes. The

boxes are on every form and application. We are forced to fill them

out. Or else we get disqualified from our own humanity.

LUE

Sometimes I skip them.

STEW and LUE are again changing scenes. They walk again on the move towards the exit door and

outside in the fresh air. They head down the road or street to locate a park and walk around a small pond

with ducks and ;geese quarreling over bread pieces. In the background is a play area where a class of

children are scooting around on equipment.

STEW

Skip?

LUE

You know. Move over. Jump over.

STEW

You don’t fill it in?

LUE

No, I don’t fill in the box.

STEW

You ignore it?

LUE

Yes. Ignore it!

STEW

That is even worse.

LUE

Worse? Why?

STEW

Because then you are just giving up.

LUE

I’m not giving up!

STEW

So, why don’t you fill in the box?

LUE

I don’t want to fill in the box.

STEW

Why?

LUE

Because.

STEW

Because why?

LUE

I don’t know.

STEW

I do.

LUE

Why?

STEW

Because you don’t know who you are!

LUE

I know what and who I am!

STEW

If you know what and who you are, why don’t you fill out the box?

LUE

I don’t see me there.

STEW

Ah Ha!

LUE

I am confused. It’s the words. I don’t see a word for me there.

STEW

You see. It is happening.

LUE

What is?

STEW

What is the word you are looking for?

LUE

You know. Who I am!

STEW

Who are you?

LUE

My Father was Hmong. My Mother was Thai. They were from China.

I was born here, in America.

STEW

You see. That is exactly what I mean. They were from someplace else

and you were born here.

LUE

Yes.

STEW

But, where is here?

LUE

Here, is this country, this place.

STEW

Oh. You mean here?

LUE

Yeah here.

STEW

Where is that? Fresno?

LUE

No, here.

STEW

You mean the Central Valley where farmers grow food?

LUE

No here! This country. It has a name.

STEW

Why? Can’t you think of it?

LUE

No. That is not it. It’s America. Uh, the United States.

STEW

Oh, that country

LUE

Yeah.

STEW

Oh! Our country.

LUE

Yes.

STEW

So, if you are born here, that would make you?

LUE

Well, technically, an American.

STEW

Technically?

LUE

Yeah! I was born here, but other persons don’t recognize America as

my country. To them I am not an American. They look at me and see

me as Hmong or Chinese.

STEW

Did you just hear yourself?

LUE

Yes. I did. Very clearly.

STEW

This is America. You are born here, and you think you are not

American, but Chinese.

LUE

Yeah. That’s me!

STEW

Sounds like you are confused.

LUE

Hey. I don’t fill in boxes on forms either! But I assure you, I am not

confused.

STEW

You are confused.

LUE

Shut Up.

STEW

You and several million other Americans!

LUE

What do you mean?

STEW

You all do not know who you are, or where you are from.

LUE

My God. How can that be!

STEW

It is easy.

LUE

You think you are funny!

STEW

No, actually we all have been duped, very subtly and very cleverly.

LUE

How?

STEW

From questions about, “where are you from?” And boxes asking about,

“our race!”

LUE

Mmmmm.

STEW and LUE are at a sporting event, a car racing event if you will. For that matter they are headed off

to watch a foot race at a fund raising event afterwards. There dialogue continues. The background is filled

with activity.

STEW

What do you read when you get to a box on a form or an application?

LUE

What?

STEW

What do you see? What do you read? What does it say to you?

LUE

I see black and white ink in English, since I speak English.

STEW

Doesn’t that confuse you too?

LUE

No, not really. It’s just a language. My language. Our language.

STEW

So, you think?

LUE

Sure we all use it. We have too.

STEW

Oh, do we all use it?

LUE

Well, except for the Mexicans and the Asians and the Arabs.

STEW

Really? Where are they from?

LUE

From Mexico, Asia and Arabia or India maybe.

STEW

What if they are born here?

LUE

Born here?

STEW

Yeah, if they are born here? What are they then?

LUE

Mexican, Asian, Arabic, Indian, I guess.

STEW

Why doesn’t anyone understand?

LEU

Understand what?

STEW

If you are born here you are an automatic citizen. You are an

American, born in America. Nothing else matters.

LUE

Oh I get it. We are a country, but not a race, or a culture, unless we are

born here. And just because we are born in America, we are

Americans. You are saying that is our race, or culture, if we are born

here. Right!

STEW

Yes. Exactly. Well, sort of, until you read forms and applications and

try to fill out the boxes.

LUE

That is when it happens!

STEW

Now you get it.

LUE

Oh wow!

STEW

See people, anybody, your boss, your government, wants you to

repeatedly tell them, where you are from or what race you think you

belong to, until eventually you can’t hear their questions any longer,

and are too old, too worn out and to tired to care.

LUE

Like overlooking the box on the form?

STEW

Exactly.

LUE

But I read and see words in the boxes.

STEW

Sure you do, we all do.

LUE

They are colours.

STEW

You figured that out did you?!

LUE

The words are usually colours. Sometimes they are this country

hyphen, that country.

STEW

So now we are not people. We are colurs. And we don’t have a

country. Because they never print American in the boxes. So we can

not find the word for who we are in the box. It does not exist. We

aren’t even given the dignity of choosing our own country. We got to

be white, black, brown or yellow colors! So it don’t matter how smart

we are or how big our title, they suddenly erased our country. We can

be a colour or we can be a half and half. But not an American. Weird!

LUE

That is a Noble Peace Prize speech right there!

STEW

Well it is true isn’t it?

LUE

Nods. Yup!

STEW

If you are an artist and you mix white with black, you get more black.

If you add brown to the mixture, you get a darker shade of black and if

you add yellow to the black, all you will ever get is more black. In a

few more decades the box will carry one word: black People won’t

need to worry about the space for country of origin, because forms and

applications will be blanked out! No body home!

LUE

I‘m so mad at this true lie, I want to sock someone.

STEW

You can buy a wind sock.

LUE

Yeah. If I socked someone for real, we would have trouble.

STEW

Yeah. It would be better to change the forms.

LUE

Where can we do that?

STEW

I guess find the application and form writer in Washington DC and

demand to be an American on the forms and applications and in the

boxes.

LUE

For reals?

STEW

Look, wouldn’t you like your forms to say something besides colors or

foreign countries? I want to check American. It is an insult to

everyone who is a citizen and who is born here to not have a unified

claim to our country,

to be Americans.

LUE

I could check Native American.

STEW

Well, you would be right, depending on your interpretation of

“natives.”

LUE

Why? What do you mean?

STEW

Native to some people just means you are born here. But to others, it

means Indians that were living here prior to 1620. But since most of us

came here and were born after that, it makes u just as much native as

the Indians.

LUE

How did we get so messed up.

STEW

I think over the years the government did it to us on forms and

applications and in the little boxes where our cultures are mixed. We

lost our humanity. And we lost our country. And instead of embracing

our country, we were not recognized as Americans. We gave up our

controls to addictions. Instead of saying, he is an American, we heard,

“he is an addict.” Or we checked colors in boxes or drank coffee and

checked “half and half” and caught the game at “half time”.

LUE

Sounds like it. Misdirection and weakness!

STEW

Unless we leave!

LUE

What?

STEW

Leave. Exit. Travel.

LUE

Then what happens?

STEW

Everyone looks at us and says, “Oh, there is an American!”

LUE

Yeah. Like we have a disease or something.

STEW

Yeah, but we didn’t create aids.

LUE

What?

STEW

You know, when you need help who do you turn to?

LUE

The forms and the applications and the boxes?

STEW

I would like to change the forms and applications and the words in the

boxes.

LUE

I would too!

STEW

I’d like to go grab an application and fill out a box, that asks me if I am

an American. Or least gives me a choice to be from my own country!

LUE

LUE

Now I understand. You are right. That is crazy now that I think about

it. Our family has lived here for seven generations. We have taken it

all for granted.

STEW

You see. We have too. I don’t know any other country but this one. I

was born here. But I never get a chance on any form or application or

box to get a chance to declare my allegiance to my country of America.

LUE

It is confusing to you too?

STEW

Sure. On a form they ask me, are you white, black, brown or yellow.

Or they ask me if I am white, or African/American, or

Mexican/American or Asian/American or Native/American. I was born

here, raised here, but for 7 generations my family has become

countries and cultureless. I am a solitary singular color as a statement

of my existence. I am white. What is that. It is a color. A colorless

color even. It is not my country. I belong to what country: oh I am

from White.

LUE

So what do you do?

STEW

I scratch it out.

LUE

That’s it?

STEW

Then I write in American!

LUE

Aren’t you scared they will get mad?

STEW

Maybe. Citizens need to stand up for their country. I am an

American, not a “white”. No wonder people get offended by name

calling. . For as smart as we are we are pretty dumb. Our forms and

applications label us, ,and we get upset when we hear the word a

neighbor uses to describe someone he does or does not like.

LUE

Or worse!

STEW

Can you imagine it? What if you just moved here and didn’t’ speak

any English.

LUE

They would probably wonder where all the Americans are at?

Especially if they had to fill out forms and applications and check the

boxes.

STEW

Yeah. They would be looking at those boxes and scratching their heads

every time they came to that box, and those Washington form writers

would just be laughing away, wondering if any one noticed.

LUE

God, How awful!

STEW

It really is.

LUE

You ready to go?

STEW

Go where?

LUE

To change some forms.

STEW

To add American!

LUE

Yes!

STEW

It’s about time!

SONG: BORN IN AMERICA

I was born in America

I was born in America

It is my country of birth

I was born in America

It is my standard and my worth

I got my birth certificate

I got my social security number

I have lived here all my life

So why can’t I claim my fame

And live a simple American life?

They two buddies walk off together into the sunset. Towards the Washington DC Capitol building. In the

background.. The music America comes up. Angel wings flutter instead of birds.

THE END

.