I remember it like it was yesterday. Hunting for my food. Chasing voluptuous cavewomen. Howling at the moon. At that time, I thought to myself, I need to cement my legend into stone. I did just that. You fickle minded modern human are witnessing my masterpiece. As you gaze in wonder at this picture, your mind drifts to the artist of this masterpiece, who is no other than myself.  I will tell you my story.

I am one of the four testosterone filled men at the top of the pyramid. I rule my Tribe with my three partners in crime, who are also my brothers. We rule with an iron fist. We stand in a dominating physical position. Below us are the fools who could not gain leadership of the tribe. They hold hands with each other and wave at their enemies in hopes of mercy.  Without us they would be lost souls, living without their masters.

It was not always this way. There was a time when Matapu ruled our tribe. Saying he is weak is an understatement. After a long grueling hunt, he would give away part of our well-earned price to bigger tribes in the area. This was done to appease them.  Me and my three brothers, were the prime warriors and hunters in our tribe. We wanted to fight our enemies and crush them into dust. However, Matapu would not allow this. Even though me and my brothers were the primary hunters, we were the last to get the food. We were not given any respect by the other cavemen.  When we walked through our village after a long hunt, the village folk would look at us with scorn in their eyes. Why you may ask would they show us such disrespect? It was because of my father’s actions. He had betrayed the tribe, by trading the tribes weapons for a hefty bounty. He sold us all out for the promise of a new life with a beautiful cave woman. This betrayal lead to the murder of many in our tribe, due to our weakened state. My father was welcomed into his new life with a dagger to the heart.

Me and brothers schemed for months. We waited until we were alone with Matapu during a hunt. We all heard the howls of the wolves. The older Matapu, who had deep set wrinkles on his forehead, informed us to make a hasty retreat. He turned his back and ran back towards the camp. I raised my stick above my head as I ran beside him. I aimed for his head and swung like a mad man. The thick stick landed with a sickening thud on his skull. He collapsed face first onto the ground. Me and my brothers climbed a few nearby trees. We watched, as the wolves sunk their teeth into his screaming shaking body.

This day began with the weaklings providing us with offerings of hand woven coverings. They bow down in our presence, steadfast in their desire to appease us. We allow them to gaze at us. Suddenly, the sky above us is thick with arrows. The thoughts rush into my head, as  I register my last moment. We fought and destroyed many enemy tribes bravely. The remaining tribes must have joined together and attacked. I look up as an arrow whizzes straight towards my head.

It is all over, but at-least you pitiful fools will see my work of art and recognize my greatness.