Where the Neanderthals Went

While unloading the latest half-yard of bare-dirt covering landscaping rock at the yurt, Mrs. Attila asked me how it was going. I had a flash of insight and told her that it could be worse. She could have sent me out for a couple hundred pounds of mastodon on sale in the next valley over. I can just picture Og muttering to himself as he headed out on a mastodon run for the little woman.