I found a rock the other day. It was lying on the ground next to some other rocks, but this rock stood out. It was gray, palm-sized, thin, and smooth. I picked it up and felt the weight of it in my palm. I wrapped my fingers around it. I appreciated the natural beauty of it. I felt compelled to skip it. If only I had a pond. Too bad. I had to put it back on the ground and pretended to be normal again. Skipping rocks is fun. It’s a great source of entertainment when you’re by a river, lake, or pond. You scour the ground for a good rock, and you briefly show it off when you find a good one. Then you whip your arm back and sling it across the surface of the water and count how many skips you get. You can get more than ten if you’re good. You’ll only get one if you suck. I’m not that good at skipping rocks. I think six is my record. Some people are really good at skipping rocks. It’s not an impressive talent, but it’s still a talent. There’s no money or glory in it, only a false sense of pride.
Critically Rated at 12/17
Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young