I never fuss when a person disturbs me. I just go into the Silences and vibrate there.
But I kept thinking: "DO I know any Cave Men?"
I Think I do — one. He tries to conceal it. But it's his secret. I'm sure.
He has the most luminous eyes!
Like a wolf's, you know, when it gallops across the waste places — under the stars, alone!
And the way he eats! I don't mean that he's noisy, you know. But the way he crunched a chicken bone the last time he dined with me was perfectly WONDERFUL — so nonchalant, you know, and loudly and — and — well, primitive! I'm SURE he's one!
I wouldn't go autoing with him for anything — unless, of course, he gave me one of those compelling glances, like Cave Men do in the magazines, you know. Then I'd know it was destiny and useless to resist.
THE LITTLE GROUP GIVES A PAGAN MASQUE
The Little Group gave a party
And all of the gods were there,
From Thor to Miss Susan Astarte
With doo-daddles gemming her hair,
Bill Baldur and Jane Aphrodite,
Dick Vishnu and Benny O'Baal,
And Bacchus came on in a nightie
With little pink snakes in the tail;