"I can picture those bozos, loafing around the campfire with their homemade spit-beer. 'Naw, no need to write down how it all began...who's gonna forget?' they say. Then, hundreds of thousands of years later, we're killing each other over whose guess is right," I groused, forking four simultaneous holes into the half-and-half and 'milking' it over my coffee.
"Yep." He grinned triumphantly at his salt shaker, perfectly balanced on one edge. "Also gotta wonder about the one who first looked at a pre-chicken, and said, 'Hey, Bub-bok! Let's eat that there thing...and whatever comes out of it, too!'"