The Golden Voyage of Barney Rubble, Part 7

On deck, the moron Imptorgon ceased in doing his pretty-much-incessant dance of death and looked around at the other morons. He held something that he started to wave at them, grunting wildly as he did so. The other morons gathered around him and gesticulated and hooted over the object, which appeared to be a thin sheet of hammered shit gold. The biggest moron, Psstototiti, held it up above his head, grinning at it then handed it back to Imptorgon and began to jump up in the air while raising his legs up above his head, over and over. This began to rock the boat and Rubble came over and started hitting morons with his club.

With that the morons went back to their posts. “What’s that moron got?” I asked Rubble, pointing to Imptorgon. “Those morons were looking at it or something.” Rubble looked at me, then at the moron, then at me. “Huh?” he said.

I went to Imptorgon and pointed to the golden shit rectangle. He handed it to me and made an unintelligible guttural sound. I looked at the rectangle in amazement. On it was a series of engraved boxes. Inside the boxes were pictures of morons, interacting with each other. When you looked at the boxes one after another they told a story. The story was funny. “KAH RRR TOOO NUH”, said the moron, Imptorgon. Cartoon? It seemed to me that the moron had invented something important. I handed it to Rubble. “Cartoon,” I said.

Rubble stared at it for 15 minutes or so, completely motionless. “I’m a cartoon,” he said. “This is a comic strip. KAHH MICK STRI PUH,” he said to the moron, handing it back to him. The moron began to whoop and whimper. He started back in doing the dance of death.

“Yeah, okay,” said Rubble.

“Hey, Barney…” I started. He looked like he just snapped into a trance. “Have you ever heard of the land of I-forget-what-you-call-it?”

“Yeah,” said Barney. “We….should….go….there.”

“Okay,” I said. “But we gotta wait till night when we can see the stars to find it.”

“Yeah….okay..”

While I waited to retrace the Dreamhorse’s star map to wherever, I had occasion to think about the moron. Like, who would look down at their little baby moron and think, “Yes, definitely, we should name him Imptorgon!” It just didn’t seem like that good of a name, moron or not. I tried to picture the moron family, gathered around the new born son. Boy, I’m glad we named him Imptorgon, half imp and half torgon! Maybe he will grow up to be a sailer and get eaten by a sea monster with the head of a snake. I can’t wait to teach him the dance of death. Let’s make sure he and all of his moron compatriots meet Barney Rubble. Barney Rubble is a stone age entrepreneur, he can make good advantage of our young Imptorgon. Little would they know that this idiot moron child would go on and become the enterprising caveman/sailor who invented the comic strip, let alone the engraved on hammered shit gold comic strip.

I sipped my beverage and considered this. Gradually, it ran from my thoughts like a starving dog towards a smelly horizon. I began to contemplate this and that and the other thing. I really sort of felt like a big shot, laying there on the deck upon the foaming green ocean, drinking copious amounts of intoxicating beverage, pissing myself and watching the goofy hi-jinks of the moron.

A fish flopped up on deck and I hammered its head against the boom. Cutting it open with my shark jaw, I found a rare jewel in its entrails. I pocketed this for a rainy day, took another big gulp of the centipede juice and began cutting morsels of the fish up for a dainty on-deck repast. Mmm, good! I saw the morons all drooling, looking at the fish, so after cutting off enough for a light snack for myself, I flung the carcass to them. Oh, what fun! They began smacking each other, howling and cavorting like the morons they were.

I sat back with my beverage, snacked on my tasties and enjoyed the warm sun.

After a few hours, The God Who Whistles In The Treetops came on board and strode up to me. He looked me in the eye and then took a big healthy shit. Man, did it stink! The shit bird, fortunately came straight up and converted it to gold. Then, I chucked it to Imptorgon.

“I will see you again at the end of the star trail,” said The God Who Whistles In The Treetops. “But watch out for the burrowing men! Mark me well!” With that he disappeared on a carpet of silver flames.

“Yeesh, what a day!” I thought.