The rock was first thrown millennia ago, before words were words, or living meant legs. From space came a great rock, bigger even than our rock, and smashed into yet-another bigger rock, the one upon which our hero lived. Rocks felt this great change all over the bigger rock, especially since there was now a lot of newer rocks, and the fact that everything had turned into a rumbling lava slurry. It survived, resting a top a great mountain created by the big rock’s impact, albeit, having been thrown up there with great force.

The rock was second thrown  not as many millennia ago but still quite the number, when it tumbled off the mountain due to its weight, a comparably measly 50 tons. The fall caused many chips and fractures, much of its body being thrown from it. When it came to rest at the bottom of the mountain, it was a shadow of itself; a mere 23.5 tons. However, our hero did not terribly mind; the lost weight made it feel much more nimble than before.

The rock was third thrown by yet another impact from a rock-that-wasn’t-quite-as-big-as-the-former-big-rock-but-was-still-quite-the-issue struck the bigger rock. Everything was thrown around more, and our rock had quite the air time, having struck the sweet spot where being far enough from impact to not be vaporized, but close enough to still feel it. The rock slammed into its former mountain again, but rolled off once more, resting near a river. 10 tons.

The rock was fourth thrown when the cliff it had come to rest on (The river had been very busy) finally gave in, and monkeys finally began grabbing sticks and stones. The cliff shattered and splattered, coming apart entirely. At the very tip of it was the rock, landing a small bit up the river; at least, that part of the river that hadn’t been lost in the cliff’s collapse and become totally blocked up. When it landed, it had become 8 tons.

The rock was fifth thrown a long time after this last incident, when monkeys became almost-hairless, had started using rocks to build their houses instead of their tools, and had taken to murdering each other. By this point, our rock had suffered quite a lot in the relentless drive of the river. It had been reduced not to five, not to four, not even to one ton, but to a mere 30 pounds. This, however, made the rock, now mostly ball-shaped after all its various impacts, of interest to the local almost-hairless-monkeys. Over a short manner of time, the monkeys picked up the rock, brought it to a strange wood-and-metal contraption facing a stone house, and put it into a scoop. The scoop suddenly rocked up, and out flew the rock. As it flew towards the stone house, slamming through its walls and hurtling to a stop far past its point of impact, it remarked to itself that this flight was much slower than its previous throws. The change of pace was nice.

The rock was sixth thrown a long time after this, when monkeys went to making their houses out of wood and then hoarding thin, green pieces of wood.  Our rock had been forgotten on a hill, left to be subjected to the wind’s mercy. By the time our rock was next found, it was put a pebble in a pile of pebbles. This again, however, made it of interest to the monkeys. The rock found itself, far away from where it had lived its whole life, with a group of strange, other small rocks. It rested in a place of strange colors, of pastel yellows and rusted blues, of metal downward declines and suspended, u-shaped slings. Here, the monkeys unleashed smaller monkeys, monkeys that ran around, stomping on everything, screaming, and ever-moving. One of these monkeys found the rock, liking its bluish hue, and picked it up, showing it to another smaller monkey. As the smaller monkeys talked, however, the original one stepped back, shouted something and threw it underhand. A smaller monkey caught it and threw it another. Seven, eight, nine, the rock was amazed! It had never moved so many times in such a short amount of time, let alone in so many different directions. Eventually, the smaller monkeys dropped the rock, returning to their screaming and running, before the bigger monkeys came to bring them back to their wood houses. The rock was content, though. It knew the next throw would not be far away. Perhaps tomorrow, perhaps not.

The next throw would come, though. Time guaranteed it.