The Hobbesian Thumb
It's the beginning of the summer holidays and Calvin and Hobbes have decided to spend the hot morning hours in the shadow of the tall tree in the garden until Calvin's Mom calls them inside to have lunch. The sun is already high up in the sky and sweat is running from Calvin's square forehead and down to his pointy chin where it's turning into salty little drops. His spiky hair is not as spiky as usual and sticks out at odd angles. Hobbes on the other hand looks completely unaffected by the heat and seems to enjoy himself quite a bit.
"How can you not sweat in that thick fur of yours?" Calvin groans, eyeing Hobbes suspiciously as though he expects the tiger to pull out a wind machine from behind his back – or at least an ice pack.
"We tigers do not sweat," Hobbes says proudly. "We are one with nature, therefore she has endowed us with built-in air-conditioning. And a very fine one, too, because it never breaks down, unlike the one in your dad's car. See, no sweat at all!" Beaming, he waves a pointy paw in front of Calvin's face who ducks to escape imminent mutilation.
"Hey, watch out where you put those claws!" he snarls at his striped friend. "Some of us are a little more thin-skinned than others!"
"Yes, it certainly seems so," Hobbes notes. "Are we a little under the weather today?"
"Possibly," Calvin says, mollified, as they have now reached the cooling shade of the tree and sit down in the grass. "Boy, nature did a really bad job on us humans, making us sweat in summer and then freeze our fingers off in winter. Maybe that's why we got these superior brains – to make up for all the disadvantages we're left with."
"Well, I'm surely astounded every time you open your mouth," Hobbes says nastily. This time Calvin gets the gist of Hobbes's remark and is not exactly amused.
"Okay, Mr. Know-it-all, you may think you are so smart, but at least we humans have managed to invent machines to help us make do with our situation – like air-conditioning in cars."
"Somehow that doesn't occur to me as the best example of human supremacy," Hobbes says carefully though his mouth is twitching suspiciously.
"Oh. Right." Calvin realizes the trap he fell in too late so he starts looking for an elegant way to talk himself out of his dilemma, his brows knit from thinking hard. "Let's see. If animals have everything they need physically there is no reason for them to evolve mentally," he begins slowly, "so the lack of outside pressure keeps them from developing an intellect of their own."
"What was that?" Hobbes interrupts him indignantly. "I don't lack anything, if you please. I'm a very intellectual tiger. In contrast to you I can always tell apples and oranges apart."
"Our physical shortcomings are nothing but a trigger to set our minds in motion," Calvin continues. He is on quite a roll now. "By experiencing pain or pleasure our minds are encouraged to memorize these things and make us remember, understand and think about things. In a way, this means that all thinking processes are just a product of our imagination!"
"Seriously, do you hear yourself talk?" Hobbes asks, kind of bored. He is leaning against the tree with his legs crossed while inspecting his fingernails, sorry, claws.
"I'd be very interested in looking at some brain scans to see which regions are activated by different stimuli," Calvin says excitedly. "Maybe there's even the possibility to have this tested on an open brain…"
If Hobbes's furry face could turn green, this would be the time for it to happen. Disgusted he wrinkles his black nose. "What a revolting idea! Brains are for thinking and for being eaten but not for poking around in them!"
Now it's Calvin's turn to make a disgusted face. "Eating brains? Ew, who would do that? Certainly only someone who lacks the intellectual ability to create a culinary miracle like Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs."
"With the right sauce and a dish of antelope steak on the side…" Hobbes says, barely listening.
"Only in a world devoid of civilization would you find people who would eat brains – and then it would be out of necessity, not out of conviction," Calvin counters.
"Ha, if there was no civilization there would be war – everyone against everyone, and you know what would happen? We tigers would rule because we are so strong and don't depend on mittens, air-conditioning and supermarkets. You humans would have to cut a deal with us and hope that we didn't simply wipe you out on a whim." Hobbes chuckles.
"Not so fast, brainiac," Calvin stops his friend's gloating. "In case you've forgotten: the lion is the king of animals – not the tiger. So who is the deal cutter now?"
"First of all, that would still be you humans and second, the lion is only the king of animals in Africa. In Asia, the tigers rule with a plushy fist. No, wait, there's something wrong with that picture… Tigers cannot clench their paws into fists… But never mind, we rule anyway and people will accept our sovereignty in exchange for protection."
"Tough luck, you are about 20,000 to 30,000 years late for that enterprise. And would you honestly exchange the commodities of civilization for the supremacy over a handful of men?"
"I would certainly miss the Saturday morning cartoon marathons," Hobbes says, weighing the pros and cons. "And the cushion in your bed is also very comfortable."
"See?" Calvin murmurs and fans himself with both hands because the heat seems to be getting stronger. "You wouldn't have all that if it weren't for the opposable human thumb."
"What's an opposable thumb?" Hobbes asks curiously. "Does it have to do with opossums?"
"No, apparently it's the position of the thumb in relation to the other fingers so we can make more difficult movements like forming a fist or holding a pen to write. It's supposed to be a big advantage over other species."
"Oh yeah? Where did you get that?" Hobbes wants to know.
"I read it in one of my dinosaur books. Some dinosaurs also had a kind of opposable thumb, like the Nqwebasaurus. But when I asked Ms. Wormwood if she could tell us something about this killer-clawed miracle of nature she strictly refused! There's just no talking to that woman…"
"I don't see how this thumb business is important," Hobbes remarks stiffly. "Personally, I don't need to make a fist. I don't even need to write, I've got everything I need to know in my head. Now, that's what I call an advantage."
"Well, writing is kind of useful," Calvin says thoughtfully. "Imagine you know some awfully clever stuff that is just inside your head. Next thing you know, you and your brain get eaten by… someone…" he gives Hobbes a quick sideways glance, "and for everyone else it's back to the Stone Age again."
"If that was a human brain it would totally be worth it," Hobbes mutters under his breath and his pink tongue darts out at the thought.
"Civilization obviously is a concept wasted on some people." Calvin wrings his hands in mock despair. "And what are you looking at anyway?"
Hobbes is staring at Calvin's head with an empty expression but his whiskers are trembling fiercely as he sniffs.
"Oh heck, don't even consider it! I mean, my brain tastes really, really horrible. And it's small, too! Very tiny, you could even say miniscule." Calvin is talking fast now, his voice almost skipping and he flashes a wide but desperate grin at the tiger who furrows his brow in response.
"Can you smell that, too?" Hobbes asks confused, still sniffing around.
"Yes, that's my rotting brain! You shouldn't eat it, it will only give you an upset stomach."
"No, genius, I'm talking about the smell from the kitchen. I think lunch will be ready in a few minutes."
Calvin stops dead in his filibuster and wrinkles his nose instead.
"You're right. What is that? Certainly not those darn peas again."
"Whatever it is, it could surely wake those dinosaurs you were talking about," Hobbes says and lays back his ears in dismay.
Before Calvin can answer his mother sticks her head out of the window and calls: "Calvin, come inside, lunch is ready."
"Um, you know, Mom, I'm actually not that hungry. Must be the heat. I'll stay outside with Hobbes and tell him more about the Nqwebasaurus."
"Don't be silly, Calvin, I made pizza, like you asked me to two days ago."
"Pizza? That's not the smell of pizza! It smells like burning paint!"
"What are you talking… Okay, now I smell it, too. But that's not coming from the kitchen, that's outside. Maybe Mr. Smith is burning the remains of his garden shed, I remember seeing a pile of boards lying in his garden. I have to say, the man's got some nerves…" Still muttering she closes the window before the stench can get into the house.
Calvin exchanges a glance of relief with Hobbes.
"Gee, aren't you glad that isn't our lunch? Now come on, pal, let's go and have pizza. I told her you wanted deer on your slice. I hope she remembered that… And after lunch we can prepare some water balloons and bushwhack Susie when she comes past our house to go to her violin lesson! See, there's yet another good use of an opposable thumb…"
They get up and walk towards the backdoor.
"Were you really thinking about eating my brain?" Calvin inquires casually.
"Tiger's honor dictates that you do not eat your friends' brains!" Hobbes says dignified. "By the way, can I use what you said about your brain earlier on for future reference?"
"Don't you dare, you fistless creature! Remember, you still rely on my help to open the Sugar Bombs box."
"If that's your plea for the human cause, how can you deem yourself fit for survival?" Hobbes asks, rolling his eyes.
"I guess humanity's really at the mercy of the universe and its sense of humor," Calvin muses.
"Yes, and I get the feeling the universe likes to laugh a lot."