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Harvest Moon

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History
== History ==
Harvest Moon has always been, and always will be, from right before the first time man killed man, until the last man (or woman – you lot with less protruding pudendas can’t escape this stuff) kills the last man (or woman). Common lore has it that this was Cain killing his brother Abel over some sacrificial smoke scattering all over the place. As plausible because totally irrelevant the cause of this alleged first murder, a laudable act of fratricide, may have been, it wasn’t the first wilful act of bloodshed.
No, indeed, the origins of Harvest Moon lie in a far darker recess of man’s history.
Once there were apes. And they started to develop tools. And although everyone thinks they did this because of sufficient cognitive progress, they 1) had the cranial capacity of gorillas, which are basically big beefy Rastafarians, and 2) didn’t change their tool design for close to a million years, and 3) could basically barely master a thumbs-up or -down associated with arena behaviour. These apes were not even capable of voting populist favourites.
Anyways, ape begot begat mutant ape begot begat mutant ape ad infinitam, and at some point there were Kevin and Oliver, less hairy, more brainy, a tad more creative in the tool design department. Oliver and Kevin had been systematically scouring the savannah surrounding their pack’s cave shelter for edibles during a particularly arid drought. In the process they developed long-bladed stone knives, ideal for harvesting all manner of edible roots, weeds, and fungi for trial-and-error sampling.
One night, under a full moon, Kevin and Oliver took their harvesting knives, intending to go out to a promising spot, which would appear super identical to anything around it to us, but not to the paleo hunter-gatherer specialist gourmand eye. They stopped at the Crapping Hole first, which was a dell between a couple of rocks close to the shelter, where everyone basically had their paleo diet guaranteed fibrous bowel movements for their sun-down-one-thumb-going-up o’clock business, when Oliver spotted a dank patch of paleo poop sprouting interesting-looking mushrooms.
Never one to pass on some good food, he dexterously flicked the mushrooms out of what was probably his grand-/father-cum-uncle’s festering pile and shared the winnings with Kev.
’I’m 'I’m not sure if this is really edible, Olly. Tastes like shit.'‘Sorry'Sorry, couldn’t get everything off of your part.'’That’s 'That’s nasty.'‘I 'I don’t feel really satisfied either.'’Let’s 'Let’s go find something to get rid of this taste. I heard there were some plump rhinos passing by the other day. We could find some plump dung beetle larvae.'
Half an hour into their trek, Olly started to notice a change in the environment. The sparse trees were starting to dance and wave at him.
‘Kev'Kev. The trees are waving at mehaving a blast. What’s happening.’?'‘The 'The trees are doing nothing of the kind, Olly. Move on.'
Olly felt a need to sit down and succumbed to an uncontrollable bout of giggling.
‘Olly'Olly, why are you laughing? I feel weird. That shit you gave me was weird. Everything is starting to get weird.'‘No'No, it’s not weird, it’s beautiful! I see stuff I’ve never seen before!'‘Olly'Olly, I’m sure we’re being watched. I’m scared.'‘Naaaaaaah 'Naaaaaaah this is great! I can see beautiful stuff! I’m hungry. Do you have an apple for me? Or a turnip?'‘That 'That rock has eyes. It’s glaring at me.'‘Kev'Kev! I just realised, we’re part of something huge and beautiful! What if, what if, what if the savannah grass was the hair on the back of a huge woman who’s as beautiful as my cousin? I need to find out if this is true! Do you have an apple for me?' 
It was then religion and philosophy were born.
‘Olly'Olly, that rock has eyes. I’m telling you. It’s freaking me out.'’That’s 'That’s not a rock! If the grass is her hair, the rocks are pimples on her back!'‘Okay'Okay, that pimple has eyes. You’re not making this better.'‘Aaawwwhhhh 'Aaawwwhhhh awesome! So that pimple is watching you! Have you done anything to wrong it?'‘I 'I voided my bladder on it when you crashed giggling.'‘What 'What if… what if it is angry with you for pissing on it?' 
It was then that Harvest Moon and all its hundreds of deities were born.
‘What'What, you mean it wants me to apologise?'‘Wow 'Wow man, this is deep. How do you want to apologise to a pus-filled pustule? Wow, look, I found a woodlouse! A tasty snack!'‘Geez'Geez, Olly, you’re making this scary shit not better! How can I apologise to it? I know, I’ll give it something nice!'’You’re 'You’re not giving it this woodlouse. I wish it was a cheesy log. Down the hatch you go, my friendly isopod! Ooh that tickles!'‘It 'It wants me to give it that woodlouse? Olly, you’re friggin’ brilliant! Hey, where did you leave it?'‘Oh 'Oh you need needed it?'‘Well 'Well thanks, now I’m stuck with a huge vengeful pimple ogling me! Great help you are, Olly!'‘oh… 'Oh… Sorry man. Say, I know, what if you make a little door for it with your knife? It can walk out of my gut and you can give it to your angry pimple.'‘Olly'Olly, you’re a real bro. Thanks man. Lie still for a second, will you?'
It was then the first human sacrifice was made, and philosophy was sidetracked for another half a million years.
And the angry, restless pimple was appeased for a while. And the Pimple was so pleased Kevin made it back home without being mauled by anything greater than a fennecwith a bad night.
And Kevin spread the word of the Vengeful Pimple, which coincidentally begat the name of Arab Hula Van Wag.
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