I went twelve miles into Oklahoma once. We played a high school football team just across the border. The Bears. And they were. Ferocious, covered in hair, and no sign of mastering advanced tools or a common language. The whole village came out for the game, painted their bodies with with berries and clay. The snack hut sold pottery and spears. The guy offered me both his daughters for my cigarette lighter.
We win, 'cos our quarterback had the unfair advantage of using words and numbers. "Blue 42" is a lot clearer than grunt grunt snort grunt. And we figured out their plays, 'cos, Grunt snort grunt grunt, that's the reverse.
We get on the bus. The locals were angry and yelled at us. I think they were mad 'cos we had just done what they couldn't do: get on a bus to leave Oklahoma. We were taunting them outta the bus - see this? It's called a cell phone. I'm gonna use it to booty call your mom! Using language! A kid with a stick tried to steal the fire from the exhaust pipe.
We had to clean up the bus when we got home, 'cos the Oklahomans pelted the bus with handfuls of mud. Because that's what they had to throw. We got out just in time. I looked out the back window and they were gathering sticks, dung and dried grass. I was scared, but it was worth it. My half-breed children are brave and strong.
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