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Grung

The Very Important Debate of Ten Thousand opens with stirring rhetoric. “Us good,” says Grung, before pointing keenly to a hill where Thag maybe saw somebody he didn’t know once. “Them bad!”

His opponent Hoog chuckles. “Well, us good,” he agrees, then jerks a thumb Grungward. “But them not good.”

Grung’s brows climb nearly above his ears. “Them good?” he asks in disbelief, pointing again.

“Us good,” Hoog clarifies.

“Them bad!” cries Grung.

“Us good, them bad,” explains Hoog quickly. “Them bad; conversely, us good.”

“Us bad?”

“Us good!”

Then a tyrannosaur eats all of them. Shut up, it could too.

Hoog

Hoog squints at the four crossed lines, considering, then places the fifth rock in a corner square. There’s a complete diagonal line now, but he’s unsure on some of the particulars.

“What rocks was O?” he mumbles, not looking up.

Grung scratches thoughtfully, triggering a massive flea evacuation. “Me not sure,” he admits. “Me not know how to read too.”

Hoog considers the board again. Then he picks up the rock he’s just set down, hefts it in one hand, and bashes in Grung’s sloped forehead.

Later, he tries to get confirmation from the dictionary, but that’s not much help either.

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