da cave

BEAR, DEER

AND BULL

The Past, Present And Future Of Da Cave.

A Fictional And Non-Fictional Short Story

Of A Day In May In The Caves

Of The Foothills Of The Mountains

Plus Some Personal Stuff

By Izzy Ess Of Questionable Finesse

“Da Bear, da Neanderthal, grabbed his woman, his Da Deer, by all her hair and dragged her closer to the fire to grab her derriere and get his end way into her.  She squealed a lot but otherwise was grateful for attention in the cold and uninspiring cave that Da Bear was decorating.  He was very proud of his depiction of a deer and buffalo that seemed to have a hundred legs and were just running to the entrance of the cave.  Da Bear was lucky that he had a friend, Da Bull, who saved the embers of his fire and did start a cozy fire right in the middle of the cave.  The smoke was drifting up somewhere and seemed to disappear into the cracks with sucking noises that suggested that Da Wind was actively engaged in hanging out around Da Cave that our Da Bear had defended from Da Cougar who had mauled his other woman, yesterday and killed her and had dragged her out to a big clearing in the trees and eaten most of her while his companions feasted on her, too.  Da Ravens had just picked the bones real clean and left some interesting bones to use for implements and carving tools for images on all the walls.  Da Bear had been working on an image of the sun and found it hard to show the light that emanated from Da Blazing Sun at noon.  Da Sun at sunrise and at sundown were just easier to show with partial cloudy coverings.  He did decide to try and show his other woman being eaten by Da Cougar and Da Raven, plus Da Cougar’s friends and Da Raven’s family.  Da Spirits of Da Maple and Da Elm and Da Oak were good enough to boast about to his good friend, Da Bull, who sometimes snuck around Da Cave and put his End in his Da Deer, who squealed delightfully, because she loved attention from him.”

So wrote Sir Humphrey Birmingham as he surveyed the newly opened cave that was discovered by his colleague and his lover, Lady Sandra Sandringham, who had accompanied him on this trip.  She had abandoned her own family in London to be with him, this summer of the year of 1849, the year that gold had been discovered in the Hills of California and enriched his relatives, immensely.  Lady Sandra was a perfect woman and had a perfect pair of breasts and a pretty derriere that he just loved to stroke and penetrate.  She was forever petting his large member, just fishing it out into open air and licking it until it gave a squirt or she could get into her own lubricated honeypot she loved to boast about.  She was sufficiently so flaky she imagined that she was the Queen of Honeypots.  She was also sensitive to spirits all around her and had described the spirits of Da Bear, Da Deer and Da Bull which, she said, still lingered in Da Cave that she had opened up by rolling a big stone away from a small entrance in the foothills of the Alpine range of Mountains that ran through the North of France.

She was oh so good at dialects that she garnered from the locals who just looked at her askance, as sometimes she just stripped her clothes off and did sing and dance in sunlight or in moonlight.  The Lady Sandra Sandringham was oh so moody, sometimes getting really down and sometimes really up and had hallucinations at both ends of her great swings which sometimes lasted just a day and sometimes weeks on end.  Sir Humphrey was enthralled with her and her hallucinations that described the past and future with such clarity that he could write it all down in his precious journal and consider it for publication when he next would visit London and his Fellows at the Academy of Sciences, established by Sir Thomas Huxley and his family of genii.

This day in 1849, he was exhausted by the dances that his lover dragged him into by the fire that she had started in the little cave that used to be the home of Da Bear, Da Deer and their fire-saving friend, Da Bull.  She sang about her friendly spirit of the Angel Lucifer who slipped inside of her own honeypot and got it hot and moist for her and for her lover, our Sir Humphrey.  She sometimes squealed delightfully as Lilith, her companion spirit, took a hold of her and made her red all over and allowed her to just swish her hairy tail at everyone.  She liked to flash her fancy derriere at all the natives in the area and scare them off with her wild singing and her adjitated dancing that she did so well.  Sir Humphrey’s wild account of his adventures with his lover, Lady Sandringham, was duly archived at the Academy in London, where it can be read today with the kind permission of the old curator who guards the Archives zealously, especially since the grandsons of Sir Thomas Huxley, Aldous, Julian and Andrew are all Nobel Laureates in Literature, Peace and Medicine, respectively.  One wonders how discussions at the breakfast table went when these three genii had visited each other at their homes in London and Great Britain.

Dear reader, I was privileged to be invited to a special conference in old Plymouth, in New Hampshire, in the spring of 1970.  Participants were all skilled in the making of the microscopic glass electrodes that could be introduced into the living cells of animals, like heart cells for myself, and measure the transmembrane voltages at rest and with the active contractions that were the characteristic physiology of cardiac and skeletal live muscle fibres.  The featured leader of the conference was Andrew Huxley who made himself available for frank discussions of the microphysiology of active cells.  Sir Huxley had done the pioneering work, with Hodgkin, Horowitz and Katz, in giant squid axons, that established the exact electrophysiology of nerve cells.  His papers can be read and not too easily understood unless you are a mathematic’s genius, while his startling treatise on the basic physiology is just outstanding.

Huxley was soft-spoken and every word was listened to intensely by all participants who realized that he could start a whole new field of research with a single notion that he oft proposed about how actin and the mysin, amino-acid microfibers, in each living muscle cell, are activated by a stimulus that makes the cell contract.  He liked cartoons with which to demonstrate his theories and his findings.  I still recall a cartoon that showed the microfibers run toward each other and thus shorten and evoke contraction in the macro-fibre, that is, in fact, a living muscle cell.  The cartoon showed these booted feet that made the fibre “run.”  The meetings with Sir Andrew Huxley and his notions of the underlying micro-physiology, the sharing of the practical making and the using of those micro-electrodes, with those graphic great cartoons were, without a doubt, the high point of my career in Science and the World of Academia.  Coupled with my brush with famous people was my recent appendectomy done under local anaesthesia, just a week before the conference.  What an image, eh?

The greatest influence on my attempts at writing was the readings of Sir Aldous Huxley which I read, in toto, during high school.  I read his last book, “Island,” just before he died, the same day that JFK was killed in Dallas, November 23. 1963, when I was working in a lab in Denver, learning new technology to measure the pH of blood, pO₂ and pCO₂.  Up until that time, the technique was time-consuming and involved extracting of the gasses in the so-called Van Slyke apparatus.  The new techniques were space-age and involved electrodes that could sense arterial pH online that were eventually widely used in space travel by the physiologists who had to monitor the health of outer spacemen in orbital and lunar flights.

My colleagues at the lab in Denver were involved in research done at altitude, Mount Evans, that determined why some folks did poorly exercising in the rarified air of the Rocky Mountains and why some folks did well.  It was research that foretold the use of blood to dope some athletes to improve their championship performance at just any level of the planet, from the sea up to the mountain tops.  We had the opportunity to try the new online machines that measured pH, pCO₂ and pO₂ at rest and also at some exercise on treadmills, in some athletic students at the University.  For some weeks, we lived atop Mount Evans and we all took about three days to accommodate to altitude with higher red blood counts and shifts in physiology to increase our abilities to do activities with more efficiency.  Apparently, we all were better at low oxygen and more anaerobic processes within ourselves.  This was all reversed whenever we returned to Denver which was itself at altitude, as Denver is so dubbed, “the Mile-High City.”

All this academia aside, there must be a better story I could begin about Sir Humphrey and Milady Sandra, whose characters are fascinating, eh?  Perhaps I could get them to revert to caveman and cavewoman and restart Neanderthal society with its wonderful cave drawings and cave living with a guarded fire for warmth and cooking, dancing, singing and cavorting.  Perhaps I could get them to far outdistance their contemporaries and create space travelling and spiritual involvement with the Cherubim and Nephalim of Biblical proportions, eh?  Perhaps they could relive the allegorical evil Eden Garden and transform the allegory for the Peace and Harmony we all deserve, instead of being burdened by the Original Sin.  Perhaps they could just hasten the formation of a Heaven her on Earth as it is in Heaven with the God of Abraham just smiling and not killing everyone from time to time.  Perhaps they could make Love predominate as Jesus would have had it, instead of having Hate and Fear and Anger and the Jealousy predominate and set each individual against the other and one nation coveting another nation’s bounties and invading it and causing ethnic cleansing, border skirmishes and genocide.

Or, perhaps I should stop this mindless typing and eat and take a nap and let the notions percolate inside of me before a decision should be made about this situation with the luscious, moody lady and her highly sexed and curious new scholar.  So, I’ll stop and say this is

THE END

AMEN AND

HALLELUJAH!

© izzy sommers, md

Welland, Canada

11/12/13