thesethingsallhappened

[thesethingsallhappened]

Necessity is the Mother

Anatolia, 6500 BCE. The sun sets high over the world's first proto city, a sprawling maze of stacked clay brick buildings adjoined together with stamped dirt roads. Inside one particularly unkempt house, two friends nearly come to blows:

T: ENOUGH, MY EARLY MODERN HOMIE-NID. WE NEED TO TALK.

P: You know what, T? I just don't get you anymore. First, you figure out the HOUSE. And that was pretty cool. I've liked being housebros with you. But now you yell and you yell, and you stifle my art--

T: YOU PAINTED THE POTS THE SAME COLOR, P.

P: I know, and look at what it's done to the room! Having some green in here is like being outside, without all the deadly nature!

T: THE. SAME. COLOR.

P: Because green really ties the room together--what's your point?

T: WHY DO WE HAVE TWO POTS

P: Well, that one is the eating pot with some bread in it. Actually, I think that bread it starting to get a little old, don't you? Maybe we should take it to the river and feed it to the ducks--

T: AND THE OTHER POT?

P: Well, that other pot is the p--

T: THE POOPING POT, P. IT'S THE POOPING POT. "P'S PAINTED POOPING POT," WE CALLED IT. REMEMBER?

P: I don't see your point, other than my amazing alliteration skills--

T: YOUR ART HAD ME SHIT IN THE BREAD, P. THE FOOD POT SHOULDN'T LOOK LIKE THE POOPING POT. THIS IS THE SECOND TIME--

P: The second time? Wait, what do you mean by the second time, I--

T: I'M FIXING THIS. PAINT THE POT A DIFFERENT COLOR, P.

*T storms out, hurriedly grabbing a torch*

P: Well today has been alarming for more reasons than I care for

*Some hours pass, and P's concern only grows with the sounds of an intense fire, and the digging surrounding the HOUSE.*

T: *breathing heavily* All right, P. Which pot is the pooping pot?

P: The green one, still. The eatin' pot is brown again, I just scratched off the paint.

T: You could've painted it any color you wanted, and you just took the paint off?

P: I wanted it to be as boring as your sense in decoration, T.

T: Whatever. Listen, so I rage-burned up all this shiny shit, and when it burns, it turns into this liquid stuff--

P: The fuck? You burned it, and it got wet?

T: Yeah, listen. After it gets cooled down, it stays in the shape it was when it was wet looking-

P: You mean FIRE turned a SOLID thing into a WET thing?

T: Focus, paleobro. So I poured it over half a pot so it would stay round, but like, hollow inside the curve of it, so when we get a bunch of them together together--

P: THE FUCK KIND OF A FIRE TURNED A THING INTO A WET THING, T? LITERALLY NOTHING DOES THAT. DID YOU MAKE A NEW KIND OF FIRE?

T: LISTEN TO ME NOW I AM TELLING YOU WHAT TO DO WITH THE POOPING POT.

P: You have my interest.

T: So I buried most of the shiny... things. But they're in a line, just like the walls, and they lead up to right here, inside the HOUSE. So if we put the pot over the beginning of the shinies, the poop will go far away and NEVER AGAIN INTO THE OTHER POT.

P: No more emptying the poop pot?

T: No more emptying the poop pot.

P: So, whaddya call it?

T: I don't know just yet. Something simple. It leads the poo away, so maybe...

P: T's poo parade?

T: No.

P: The defecation diversion?

T: No.

P: The great fecal fend-off--

T: WE'LL JUST CALL IT LEAD. LEAD IS FINE.

P: But is it pronounced like lead or--

C: Hey there, my favorite bromo sapiens neighbors! What do you think of making a network of these leads--

T: It's definitely just lead.

C: --where they all connect, and go to the same place?

P: Where does the lead.... lead to, anyway?

T: Well, I hadn't really decided yet. I was thinking maybe near where the grain is growing outside. I think that maybe something about adding it to the soil could--

C: How about the river, where it can just get washed away? It's nearby, it should-

P: NO CRAIG, THINK OF THE DUCKS

T: COME ON CRAIG, THINK OF THE DUCKS.

P: Lead the lead to Craig's house?

T: Lead the lead to Craig's house.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lead_smelting#Historic_mining_and_smelting_sites

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paint#History

[thesethingsallhappened]

It’s Where the Heart Is

Anatolia, 7,500 B.C.E. Summer is turning to Autumn, just north of the Mediterranean shoreline. The first wisps of the oncoming cold are felt between three friends, who are spending a crisp afternoon together in a rare moment of leisure.

T: I AM SICK OF THIS FUCKING WEATHER, NEANDERDUDE

P: What are you talking about? It's totally nice out today. The sun is shining, the clouds are especially fluffy today, the birds are singing--

T: THEIR SONG IS IGNORANCE. IT CELEBRATES THE CRAPPINESS OF NATURE AND IT IS AN ABOMINATION

P: Well shit, man. Maybe you should head under that tree and take a nap in the shade, I think it'll make you a little less cranky.

T: NO. NO MORE TREE NAPS. NO MORE FRUIT FALLING ON MY HEAD WHILE I SLEEP--

P: Hey, maybe there's something to that--

T: NO MORE SLEEPING IN CAVES WITH THE RABID BATS, NO MORE CUDDLING THE COLD DIRT WITH NO MORE THAN FLUFF-FLUFF BLANKETS--

P: I will totally cuddle you if you need some extra warmth. I've got enough leg hair for six or seven people to keep toasty.

T: GO. GET. ME. CRAIG'S. BULLSHIT. STICK.

P: Hey T, you're making a lot of references to previous episodes, I think you might leave somebody confused--

T: FETCH ME THE BULLSHIT STICK I HAVE MUD TO SHAPE

P: I didn't realize you could make ME confused, and I have context here.

---

*P Finds Craig at the top of his ladder, balancing between it and a tree branch.*

P: Hey Craig, whatcha doin' there, man?

C: P! Hey bromad, I think I figured something out. You can use ladders to get to beehives in the trees, and take all the honey out!

P: Hey man, that's fuckin' GENIUS! I think it'd help you get at the hive a little easier if you just balance on the branch though, don't you? You might fall if you're shifting your weight between it and the bullshit stic-- ladder.

C: Sure, I'll try it.

*Craig lifts a leg over the top of the ladder, and is sitting completely on the branch.*

P: Awesome, bro! Hey listen, T needs your bullshit stick for a little while, so I'm just going to borrow it, okay? I'll bring it back when T's done.

*P runs off with the ladder.*

C: Well. Just me and the bees, then?

*the bees begin to stir, and flood angrily out of the hive*

C: hello darkness my old friend

*P returns to see a massive structure, open at the top, composed of cubes of what appear to be dirt. T is hurriedly dashing around it, stacking more cubes into neat, straight lines.*

T: GOOD WORK P, HAND ME THE BULLSHIT STICK! THIS THING NEEDS A ROOF!

P: What the shit is this "roof"     What the shit is this     What the shit is--     What the shit     What

T: Focus, neodude. You shape yourself some mud, maybe with some grass and shit in it for good measure, and then you throw it in a fire. It cooks nice and hard, and then you stack it. But I need the bullshit stick to close this thing up at the top. I'm calling it a roof.

P: The whole thing?

T: Oh, no. Just the top bit is the roof. I'm calling the whole thing the “Habitable Oasis that Undermines the Sun's Evil.”

P: How about we skip all that, and just call it "house?"

T: Sure, fuck, whatever. So long as it works. Want to live in a "house" with me?

P: FUCK YEAH, CAVEBRO

T: No. HOUSEbro.

T&P: duuuuuuuuuuuude

C: You know, we could make a couple more of these, and have a lot of people live with us! Wouldn't that be neat?

P: I'm going to go inside my house and create property rights so you can GET THE FUCK OFF MY LAWN CRAIG

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/%C3%87atalh%C3%B6y%C3%BCk

[thesethingsallhappened]

8,000 B.C.E. The warm summer wind blows against the backs of three friends in the green of the Iberian Peninsula. A shriek is followed shortly by the wet thud of the moist, black dirt.

P: Seriously? Who keeps digging these holes?

T: I don't know, bromad. Here, help me out of this thing.

P: And how do you keep falling in them?

T: I don't know, bromad.

P: I mean seriously, what the shit? WHY IS THIS HERE?

T: Seriously, you want to get me out of this thing?

P: WHO THE FUCK JUST DIGS CAVEBRO-SIZED HOLES AND THEN LEAVES THEM?

T: We can discover criminal investigation together just as soon as you get me out of this fuckin' thing.

P: I have an idea.

T: Please tell me it involves me getting out of a pit.

P: We need to make a thing. Something that makes a loud noise, you know, like when you fell into that icy river--

T: I AM NATURALLY WARM BLOODED AND IT WAS VERY JARRING NOW PLEASE GET ME OUT OF THIS PIT

P: --And we can both have one, and it can be like talking long distance! Bro-magnon, we can totally use it to call each other over! Like when you fall in a pit, you can call me, and I'll come help you out!

T: P YOU ARE NOT HELPING ME OUT OF A PIT NOW AND THE THING DOES NOT EVEN EXIST YET. YOUR THING HAS FAILED BEFORE YOU EVEN MADE IT

P: I'll be right back. I need that branch over there, and maybe some string...

T: goddamnit

C: Hey T, what are you doing in my test hole?

T: Hey Iberian Craig, THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING MAKING HOLES EVERYWHERE

C: Hey, check it out. I made this thing out of two big sticks and a bunch of little sticks to get you out of holes!

*Craig hands a long set of twin poles with crude steps roped between them to T, who uses it to climb out.*

T: Craig.

C: I know, how cool was that! It worked!

T: Craig, you invented a thing to get out of a problem you yourself made. This solves no problems.

C: Sure it does, you're out of the test hole!

T: YOU DUG THE TEST HOLE, CRAIG. THIS NEVER NEEDED TO HAPPEN. WHY DID YOU NEED THIS MANY HOLES TO TEST IT? WHY NOT USE A TREE INSTEAD OF DIGGING A HOLE, CRAIG?

C: But then if it broke, I'd fall out of the tree. The holes are way better.

T: But then you'd still fall back into the hole-- craig i hate you so much

* a whirring roar is heard off in the distance. Unrecognizable to the two, it approaches. *

T: HOLY SHIT CRAIG GET IN THE PIT IT'S COMING FOR US

P: GUYS! Check out how LOUD this thing is! It's perfect! You just swing around the wood bits on the rope, and the sound carries almost forever!

T: That's great, P. Now hand me Craig's bullshit stick so we can get out of Craig's bullshit pit.

P: Wait, Craig dug these holes?

C: TEST holes.

P:

god

damn

you

Craig

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ladder

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bullroarer

[thesethingsallhappened]

Holier Than Thou

9,000 B.C.E. Somewhere in the lush green of what is now Azerbaijan, a sharp crack is heard, followed by a short scream. Three friends are together in the meadow, two of them standing worried over the third, who is laying face-up in the dirt.

T: GODDAMNIT DUDE, WE TALKED ABOUT THIS. YOU CAN'T OUT RAM A RAM, IT'S CALLED A FUCKING RAM FOR A REASON.

P: *groan* I thought I had it this time.

T: Just what exactly is the matter with you?

P: Well, I got out rammed by that ram over there. Just look at him, he's mocking me. I'm almost a real champion of nature, T. The ram is the last animal I have to out-headbutt.

T: Fuckin'-- can you at least stand? We should get away from it. I heard rams can smell failure.

P: Of course I can stand, I'm a champion of nature--

*P tries to stand, and immediately falls back over*

T: Shit, look how swollen your head is! You can't just move around like that!

P: I know I can't move around, it's becoose Ahm a champyoon of naytur

T: Oh shit. Shit. How do I fix P's head? It's too swollen... do I... P, I have to cut a hole in your head. I think it might save your life.

C: I dunno, I think P's funnier this way

T: GODDAMNIT NEOLITHIC CRAIG WE ARE INVENTING SURGERY TODAY NOT COMEDY

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trepanning

[thesethingsallhappened]

So Cute, and yet so Wrong

11,000 B.C.E. A world of wonders emerge as tribes gather together into the first true nomad socities. In the fertile Levant, three friends stand in a field of grass.

P: Paleobro, check this out. I got two of the fluff-fluffs together in a pen.

T: Look, man. We talked about this. Those are sheep. Fluff-fluffs is a cute name and all, but they're called sheep. People laugh at you when you call them that.

P: You're mistaking the laughter of mocking with the laughter of acceptance and recognition, my bromad. Fluff-fluffs are in. It's 11,000 BCE. Come on, get with the times here.

T: Fine, whatever. Anyway, why are the... fluff-fluffs in a pen? Also, what's a pen?

P: I KNEW YOU LIKED FLUFF-FLUFFS! Okay, focus. You in on this? This is the next big thing. We keep these fluff-stallions in this pen, right? Then, one night, you get hungry. Guess what, your vitamin-deficient ass doesn't have to go forage in the hills and get chased away by a rabbit in the dark anymore--

T: DAMNIT IT SOUNDED LIKE A SCARIER THING I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO

P: -- You just have to go get one of these nice meat/blanket combos here, kept ready for you in the pen.

T: That's... not a bad idea, actually. We could totally make a thing out of this.

C: you guys should make them bang and make more fluff-fluffs

T&P: FUCK CRAIG THAT IS SO GROSS STOP TALKING ABOUT FLUFF-FLUFF FUCKING

T: we should totally make them bang

P: i bet it's so cute 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Domestication

[thesethingsallhappened]

Just Wait Till You Slice It

The year is 28,000 BCE. The last great ice age rages on throughout the northern hemisphere, as three friends sit alongside a crude fire, eating a well-earned meal scavenged from the rough west Asian landscape.

T: What the hell are you eating, cavedude? Did you cook tree moss?

P: Check it. You know those tasty grass seeds?

T: Sure.

P: I found a ton of them growing today.

T: Nice! Can I have some?

P: I got them all together, and I hit them with my beatin’ rock.

T: The FUCK

P: I mean, I pummelled that stuff like you wouldn’t believe.

T: wat

P: Then I took all that shit and mixed it with some water-

T: So you cleaned off your beatin’ rock.

P: -and then I threw it all into our fire.

T: Why do I tribe with you you are the worst at food

P: and it got all bubbly and shit

T: That’s what fire does to things, yes

P: and it made this thing i’m eating.

T. So… you made smushed-up-grass-seed-fire-food.

P: Cavebro, that name is shit. I call it Beatin’ Rock Enhances And Delivers.

C: Bread? Hey cavedudes, is that gluten free? Because if it is I can’–

T&P: GODDAMNIT CAVE CRAIG STOP RUINING THIS

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_bread