I'm sure you remember Flim-Flam from our episode of last Wednesday. Oh, you missed that one? Well, Flim-Flam is the great-great-ippity-great grandson of Adam and Eve. The one with the shifty eyes and large incisor teeth. Yeah. That one. The first Flim Flam Man in Prehistory. And Flim-Flam has quite a problem --.

Yes, that's so. All of the descendants of Eve and Adam do seem to have problems, don't they? They just can't cope. Not like the old stock. No, they were --. Well, actually, Adam and Eve were driven out of The Garden of Eden because --. At least, that's the reason given in the papers. But I've heard that --.

Anyways, Flim-Flam's problem is that he can't compete with the animals.

Flim-Flam sees a lovely pheasant he wants to invite for dinner --. And, just as he is waddling and puffing behind it, Cheetah sprints past with his dinner invitation. No matter how much headstart, Cheetah always beats him out. And sits there, smirking and licking his chops and gloating with his glunky yellow eyes.

Another time Flim-Flam spots a coconut, or bunch of walnuts, But Monkey gets there first. (True, Flim-Flam wasn't built for climbing.)

And Bluejay snatches a cherry right out of Flim-Flam's rubbery lips.

Sometimes Flim-Flam finds a dried old bone that might hide some tasty marrow. But rocks easy to lift won't crack it. And rocks that might crack the bone are too heavy for the poor booby. While puzzling about this, Gorilla lumbers up, grabs the bone, smashes it against a rock, slurps the tasty marrow, smacks his lips, pounds his chest in a smarmy scream, and belches into Flim-Flam's face!

"Anything you can do, I can do better! I can do anything better than you", sings each animal at Flim-Flam's passing. "And I'm much prettier, with my naturally wavy hair"

And Flim-Flam has to admit that the animals are so much faster and stronger, can climb or fly better, adapt better to their environment, are so much better looking than Flim-Flam and his flammish kin.

But Flim-Flam can do some things better than some of the cave-folk. For example, Flimn-Flam can wrestle better than his little sister, Snusie the Sniveler. When nothing else works, Flim-Flam challenges Snusie, "First one flat is a flatworm!", scaring Snusie into a sniveling scream. So Flim-Flam wins by default. Hooboy! Feels good!

Now, smirkng on this, Flim-Flam is struck by a big hokey think. Ow! Hur-rt! Flim-Flam isn't used to having big hokey thinks. (He is, remember, the first flim-flammer of prehistory, and he hasn't had much practice.)

As soon as the smoke clears from his head, Flim-Flam hastily scans the hoke, crossing his shifty eyes until his ears pop. Uh-hugg-hogg-hagg-higg-heggah! What a hoke!

Looky. Challenge Snusie wrestle. If Snusie yes, lose by falls. If Snusie no -- just snivel scream and give up -- Flim-Flam win by defalls. So, same way, Flim-Flam challenge animal in game animal don't like. Animal gives up. Flim-Flam wins by defalls. Hooboy! Flim-Flam never felt so good!

Snickering, Flim-Flam turns a somersault, bangs his head against a rock, skins his snose, rips flesh from his back, and rolls hugger-mugger down hill into a dank pool of water.

When he weakly squeegees onto the sand, half drowned, his hands suddenly jackhammer jolts of pain into his spine. He stares at them in blank horror. Each palm is swollen out into a grayish hard surface, scarred with whorls and grooves.

"Oh, Mommy! Mommy!", he screams, flailing his hands about. "I think I hurt myself!"

The violence of his torment shakes loose, from each palm, the clam half-shell fastened there like a suction cup. The violence of the pain drops so abruptly that Flim-Flam stares at the shells in astonishment. How can mere shells on his hands hurt so much? Turning over the shells, he finds under each a tiny crab, apparently trapped next to his palm by the shell.

"Ya-a-a-a-ah!"

He'd placed his skinned nose too close and is roughly nipped by an angry crabkin. Flicking it away, he turns the shell over the other crab to preclude further attack. And discovers, with a great groan, that his hands hurt again -- although differently. Looking up, he discovers that Gorilla is standing on his hands.

"What doin? Crackin clams? Good tasty! Gimmie, gimmie!"

Flim-Flam must think fast, almost as difficult for him as trying to outclimb Monkey. Gorilla won't believe the real story, and he hasn't any crab meat to pacify the standee. Maybe his next decision comes from that big hokey think still ticking his cerebellum, for he finds himself saying:
"No got clam meat, nicey Gorilla, no clam meat. Got great game here. You like. Ha-ha. Looky. See Crabbie under this shell. But no Crabbie under shell there. Now, I --. We --. I dunno.I mean --. Ha-ha. What you spose we do now, nicey Gorilla?"

Wham! Gorilla whacks the top of Flim-Flam's head, nearly splitting his skull.

"No ask Gorilla silly question! What game? Hidy clam meat?"

"Oh no! Oh no! Oh no no! No clam meat. No clam meat. Anywhere! Always empty shells. Cept for Crabbie under one shell. Which one? I dunno. Mix me up. This one?" Flim-Flam put a hand on the shell. "This one?" He placed his palm on the other shell. "No. Maybe that one."

Peering down, Gorilla espies a little hole in one of the shells through which Crabbie might pull himself to pinch or escape.

"Where Crabbie? Where Crabbie? Good game, Flim-Flam. Gorilla like game. Do again. Now!"

Shaking his ringing head, Flim-Flam rushes into the next episode, without a script to go by. In desperation, Flim-Flam improvises a sequence of shell-shifting which fascinates Gorilla enough to stay his whacking. Put Crabbie under one shell. Shift shells around, until Gorilla and Flim-Flam are both confused. Flim-Flam places a palm on each shell, asking Gorilla which shell hides Crabbie. Flim-Flam has no idea as to which shell. And Gorilla has no idea. Only The Crabbie Knows! And, squeezing through the hole, Crabbie pinches Flim-flam's palm excruciatingly into palming the crabkin.

Gorilla mistakes Flim-Flam's painful scream for a prompt and turns over both clam shells.

"Where Crabbie? Where Crabbie? Good trick, Flim-Flam. Gorilla like game. Do again. Now!"

Somehow, his head and his hands hold out, for the next two or three hours, as Flim-Flam gives his all for his art. Finally Gorilla whacks Flim-Flam on the head, growls, "Silly game!", and lumbers off.

But later, alternately moaning and boasting, Flim-Flam regales his flammish kin around the camp fire. And is properly appreiated. For they watched from afar this incredible spectacle of Gorilla appearing both baffled and fascinated by a human game.

Next day, Flim-Flam tries the shell game on Snusie. She doesn't scream, or even snivel. She sneers -- when both clam shells turn up empty.

"Then no Crabbie was there!"

"But you saw Crabbie. Did! Looky. Do again. Hidy eyes. Now looky. Crabbie under this shell. No Crabbie under other shell. Now mixy up. Roundy. Roundy. Now find Crabbie. No. Wrong. And wrong again. See?"

"Then no put Crabbie there!"

"Did! You saw. Looky. Do again."

But, no matter how many times Flim-Flam repeats the trick, Snusie (now tense and sniveling) insists that absence of Crabbie from both shells only indicates that no Crabbie was put under a shell. Angry, his hands bleeding from Crabbie bites, Flim-Flam kicks Snusie aside and saunters into the Grotto to sulk.

Later, putting down the shells, Flim-Flam rehearses his shell game before an imaginary Snusie. Then, in turning over a shell, he accidently flicks Crabbie from his palm so that Crabbie turns up under the second shell. Flaim-Flam stared in amazement.

"How get there? How get there, Crabbie? Good trick, Crabbie. Do trick again."

When, for the next three times, Crabbie apparently fails to perform his role in the trick, Flim-Flam becomes angry. He deliberately flicks Crabbie aside. Then he realizes what has happened.

So Flim-Flam sits for hours in the Grotto, rehearsing his new version of the trick. You only let the "sucker" see under the shell which he's guessed as "the right one". Of course, both shells are empty. However, if challenged, you turn over the other shell while palming Crabbie into position beside the turned-up shell, as if there all along. So the game looks legitimate.

That night, Flim-Flam performs the new version of the shell game to the great applause of his flammish kin. Even applause from his little sister, Snusie the Sniveler.

Later, Flim-Flam realizes that this lucky revision saves him from rejection by the Monkeys. For, in Snusie-fashion, they'd have insisted no Crabbie under any shell, in the first place. But now the Monkeys are so impressed that they bet walnuts on their guesses. And good-naturedly surrender the winnings to the clever Flim-Flam.

But the other animals refuse to pause long enough to play the Game. Flim-Flam must think up a new hoke.

He tries and he tries. Then, one day, unexpectedly, Flim-Flam is truck by such a blinding hoke that it knocks him out for several hours. Recovering, he scans the hoke, as it scampers a Crabbie-crawl about his brain, nipping his cerebellum. His shifty eyes so far cross that they exchange sockets. WHAT A HOKE!

Looky. Take story backward -- way scared Crabbie crawl. Flim-Flam want feel good. Why Flim-Flam feel good? If Clan praise Flim-Flam. Why praise? If Clan think Flim-Flam wins game over Animals. How win game? Hooboy -- get this! Flim-Flam FIX GAME! FIX EVERY GAME, the way fix shell game.

Animals always lose. If animal play, Flim-Flam win fixed game. If animal no play, Flim-Flam win by defalls. Same as with Snusie. So perfect hoke. Better than first hoke. What say? You say same as first hoke? Shut up! Flim-Flim got it now.

In the foolness of time, Flim-Flam improvises many games. Games which, though crude, are Ur-models of our presentday sports games, parlor games, political games, education games, gambling games.

Flim-Flam thus becomes the hero of his Clan. Vicariously, his flammish kin preen at this Human victory over the Animals. Those silly Animal games -- running, flying, climbing -- so what if Humans can't win them? They're stupid games! Only Human games not stupid.

If you're so smart, Animal, why aren't you rich? In winnings from Human Games?

This became the main alibi of Flim-Flam's descendants, now legion. What if a few fraernizers, such as Rudyard Kipling, who writes disloyally of "The Cat Who Walks Alone"? Any loyal human knows that the cat's very independence is evidence of its stupidity. While a dog or a horse takes orders from humans, which is evidence of intelligence!

And these hokes and ploys, honed in "competition" with the Animals, are turned by Humans against Humans.

If you can't paint or compose or write or invent or conceive viable hypotheses or ask useful philosophical questions or conceive effective logico-mathematical structures or adumbrate spiritual insights --. If you cannot thus create, then perhaps you can glean some material or process essential to these and similar activities; get a corner on this essential; and profit by its value to the creative, yaaahing: "If you're so smart, why aren't you rich [in money]?"

If you can't cope in business, you might organize a tribal or political structure necessary to the functioning of commerce, control some part of it, exacting contributions (overt or covert) from successful businesstypes, yaaahing: "If you're so rich, why aren't you powerful?"

If you have savvy for the political Game, or some part of it, but without the charisma to front the Game, you set up the charismatic ones to parade before the public, yaaahing to toadies: "If he's so powerful, how come a little boy can shout, 'The Emperor has no clothes!""

And, in the foolness of time, other Human Games developed. Especially, down through Prehistory and down through History, MEN PLAY FIXED GAMES WITH WOMEN -- as FIXED as the games Flim-Flam played with his liittle sister, Snusie the Sniveler..

For in The Beginning is The Game. And The Game is within the human spirit. And The Name of The Game is FIX: HOKE. For it began in EDEN (with The Serpent's APPLE-GAME).