Grandpa

Four year-old Thomas' grandfather took his cigar out of his mouth, an act so rare that it demanded attention. "Stand up straight, boy."

Thomas flashed a rebellious smirk, and instantly regretted it when his grandfather stood up.

"Before you were born, kid," he said, eyes wide and unblinking, "your great, great, great, great, great grandpa was a monkey." He bent down, swinging his hands from side to side and shaking his head at at Thomas. The scene, in any other circumstance would be comical, but Thomas' grandfather was no comedian and instead, Thomas stood as tall as he could, shaking.

The old man stood up slowly, taking a long draw from his cigar. He blew a smoke ring and continued. "He spent a million years learning to stand erect. You know how important that is, kid? That's the damnedest important! Then we learned to use our hands to do things other than walking, and it opened up a new world of thinking. It wasn't the wheel, Thomas. It wasn't art. Standing erect was the single greatest achievement in the history of mankind, and if you want smirk and say to hell with that, then to hell with you."

Just then, a young woman brushed passed Thomas' grandpa, giving him a quick glare that simply glanced off his cool demeanor, as usual.

A young man followed her and whispered in her ear, "When are we going to take him to the home?"

"Now's not the time," she replied.

She handed Thomas his bible and departed to Sunday School where Thomas learned that 4000 years ago God created mankind and all the things in the world just as we see them today.

Thomas never slouched again.