Exterior. Day.
The sky is just hinting at the possibility of some light over there past the great water. A coupla tribesmen are sitting on the ground because the chaise longue has not yet been invented. Birds shriek in the background.
Steve: I’m finding myself to be feeling a bit peckish this morning.
Karl: There’s a piece of goat still in the fire from last night.
Steve: I’m feeling some creative juices flowin’ today, Karl. I just wonder…
Karl: You wonder what? Listen, Mr. I Invented Geometry, the last time you had those juices flowing you came up with the Colliding Linear Accelerator and that was a bust, remember? Huh? Remember WHY? Because stainless steel hasn’t been invented yet, Mr. Smartypants. Just have that goat meat and let’s get on with things.
Steve: No, really. No goat for me today. I wonder… what would happen if I took this shallow stone bowl and put some of the ground up grain into it. Then, if I dribble some water here ( he puts his grimy hand into the edge of the lake ) and smoosh it around I will have a paste.
Karl: Not for nothing, Steve, but you’re re-invening Matzoh. If you want some Matzoh, go see Feldstein around the bend of the lake. He puts out a lovely breakfast spread with fresh Matzoh, kippers, smoked lox, thinly sliced Vidalia onions, tomatoes, olives and genuine citrus wedges from over in Jerusalem. He’s also got the Arts & Leisure section of the Times.
Steve: No, No, No !! I feel the need for… for…for… what would you call it?
Karl: ( dry tone ) A bath?
Steve: Hah ! Putz ! No, I feel the need for a chewy soft thing that I bake, not a stiff thin thing that I bake. I don’t want Matzoh, I want something…thicker.
Karl: That’s called “two slices of Matzoh”, hero.
Steve: Hand me that box of baker’s yeast. Yes, that one there, next to the pile of roots and tubers. I picked it up at the Von’s a few weeks ago.
Karl: You never cease to amaze me. I cannot even spell " Von’s ".
Steve: Yeah well, stick with me pal.
( Steve drizzles a bit of yeast into the mush and paws it anew with great vim and vigor )
Karl: You’re really mixing that with great vim and vigor.
Steve: I suspect this might really work out. Stoke the fire will ya and please PLEASE pull that burned goat’s pelvis out of the fire. Disgusting. You must stop with the overcooking.
Karl: Ohhhhh, excuse me, Emeril !
Steve: Who?
Karl: ( sullenly ) Never mind. Here, the fire’s coming up nicely.
Steve: I am figuring if I make a big thing, like a …a…a… tray or dish or loaf or something. Then we put it onto the big flat stone thing we use that we make hot.
Karl: Please. You can work out the wording of " Colliding Linear Accelerator" and you can’t decipher " oven " ???
Steve: We all have our strengths. Here, hold this so I can push the baking mush into it.
Karl: Watch it !! That thing is hot !
Slow dissolve to imply the passage of time as well as the ability of the editing software to create and execute cross-dissolves and other transitions indicating the passage of time.
New angle.
Karl: I have to admit, it doesn’t look like I thought it would. Does it look like you thought it would?
Steve: Nope, not really. Hand me my flint knife and help me remove this soft hot thing from the baking stone.
Karl: " Loaf", Steve. Call it a “loaf”, ok? Criminy where would you BE without me?
Steve: Fine, you win. Karl, help me remove this soft hot thing from the “loaf”. Happy?
Karl: ( muttering obscenities ).
Steve: Gosh, that’s really pretty. It got huge ! And it smells FABULOUS !!
Karl: I have to admit, it really smells terrific around here now. Almost completely covers up the stench of decaying carcasses and heaped up feces, doesn’t it?
Steve: Yeah, that it does.
He rips the still hot loaf apart into jagged chunks.
Steve: You know… it’s soft. It’s puffy and soft, like I was hoping and yet…
Karl: ( exasperated ) And WHAT?? It’s not ENOUGH you invented a new thing for us to eat, now already you’re fiddling and tweaking? My GOD MAN can’t you leave well enough ALONE?
Karl stomps off. Steve stands pensively, a hot wedge of fresh bread in his hands. He eyes the still roaring fire.
Steve: ( to himself, since there’s nobody in the clearing but the birds ) I wonder… what if I rested this piece of stuff near the fire. What if… I wonder if maybe it would change a bit. Maybe stiffen up without becoming like Matzoh. Let’s just see…
And thus, on that fateful morning somewhere in the Fertile Crescent, Steve invented toast. Not only did he change the direction of breakfast for the next coupla millenia but he created a use for all of the boxes of Polander Fruit Spread he’d dug up while re-routing the stream on the far side of the encampment.
The End.
