Throwing Rocks

Throwing Rocks

(1,605 words)

It was 6:27 on the afternoon of Saturday June 10, 1961, when the meteor landed smack dab in the field behind Big Johnny's Junk and Haul. Little Johnny, Johnny Jr., was playing by himself among the metal scraps and broken glass in his father's extensive junkyard. He was, at the time, unsupervised on account of his father getting a call about a wreck out in Pittsville that needed some hauling. Captain Eddy's Homegrown Bluegrass Band was playing at The Hitch, Pittsville's local bar and grille, so Johnny Jr.'s mother had decided to tag along. Johnny's mother hated to leave him behind, but she loved bluegrass, especially the authentic kind like her daddy used to play. Plus, just like she explained to Johnny before she left, even a mother had to let her hair down on occasion.

His mother had told him he could play in the backyard, but only until the sun went down. Since the sun would not set until 8:26 on June 10^th he was outside playing one of his favorite games, a game he called "Rock Throw." The premise of the game was simple enough. First, Little Johhny would make his way up one of the many piles of junk which grew instead of grass in his backyard. He would climb very carefully so as not to lose his balance and find himself falling onto a rusty nail or exposed rebar or other such nasty thing. Then, once he had achieved sufficient enough altitude and secure enough footing for his liking, Little Johnny would reach into his pocket and extract one of his pre-gathered rocks. Lastly, he would throw that rock as hard as he could. Usually, it would hit something in one of the other piles of junk and make a real exciting cacophony of sounds as it bounced from car door to frying pan to kitchen sink on its way back down. Johnny loved the clinks and clangs so much that "Rock Throw" was his second favorite game. His first favorite was Cops and Robbers, but it wasn't much fun to play by himself on account of there being no one to chase if he was the cop, and no one to run from if he was the robber.

At 6:26pm, Little Johnny had just reached one of his favorite throwing perches. He firmly planted his two bare feet on the junk pile's rusty metal ledge. He reached into his pocket and grabbed a rock. What a rock he chose, too, smooth and so round it almost felt like a little bouncy ball in his hand. He tilted his head from side to side, stretching out his neck. He rolled his shoulders. He wound up his pitch like he was Dick Donovan and this was the World Series. He threw the rock.

The Earth exploded.

Right on the other side of Big Johnny's fence the ground erupted in a geyser of dirt and clay and soil. Little Johnny was so surprised he nearly lost his footing but was, thankfully, able to catch himself on an iron hook which jutted out from the junk pile on which he stood. He crouched down and covered his head with his arms to protect himself as the dirt began to rain back down in big ole clumps.

When it seemed like the dust had settled, Johnny dropped his arm and hazarded a look around. Aside from being coated in a thick layer of freshly blown-up dirt, the junkyard looked mostly the same. Johnny stood on his tip toes and craned his neck to try and spot the cause of the explosion he had just witnessed. But even on his tip toes he wasn't tall enough to see past the Appalachia of crap his daddy had built back here. Seeing as the sun was still far from set, Little Johnny decided it would be alright to take a little stroll out to the edge of the property and see what he could find.

***

What Little Johnny found, after maneuvering through the maze of tetanus and asbestos in his backyard and carefully squeezing through the barbed wire fence, was a big hole. One helluva big hole as his daddy would say. In the center of the big hole was a smoldering rock. The rock was far better than any Johnny had ever seen before. It was roughly the size of three or four footballs, he surmised. Its surface was full of ridges and divots in a surprisingly neat beehive pattern. And, unlike the rocks Little Johnny was accustomed to, this one glowed. Veins of radiant green webbed their way across the thing, emitting a dim light.

Johnny didn't imagine he could carry a rock so big and he figured it might be hot, on account of it smoldering and all. But he still wanted to get a closer look. He slid down the side of the crater and approached the rock slowly, moving quietly on his tip toes as if he needed to keep the element of surprise. He was still a few feet away when he heard a noise.

"Pew, pew, pew," he heard. It sounded like a mouse making sound effects for a pea shooter. Johnny paused and listened harder.

"Pew...pew...peeeeew," there it was again. Johnny had never heard this sound before but right away felt a certain amount of empathy for it. It had the same tone he used to call out to his mother whenever he cut himself playing in the junkyard.

Maybe the rock had landed on a nest of baby birds. Little Johnny picked up the pace, spurred on by a young man's morbid curiosity in animal carnage. It was not, however, a decimated bird's nest. Instead, Little Johnny found--looking dazed and more than a little banged up--the strangest of creatures. It was about the size of one football, Johnny reckoned. It had a round belly, big head, two stumpy legs and two long arms ending in hands that looked like mittens. Its skin was smooth and had a sheen to it like a frog's, only this thing was a hazy purple color. It had one big saucer-shaped eye and a mouth that protruded from its face like a little straw. On top of its head were two antennae, one of them bent at a ninety-degree angle which, Johnny suspected, was not its natural state.

For a moment Little Johnny didn't know what to do and, even though his mama had told him it was rude, he just stared at the thing.

"Pew, p-ew," it squeaked, quieter than before, and jolted Johnny out of his stupor. He realized this creature, whatever it was, must have crashed landed with the rock. He thought it might be injured and must be thirsty. Johnny never had a pet before, aside from the mean ole junkyard cats which were more inclined to bite and scratch than anything else.

He stood over it and hooked his thumbs through the straps of his overalls, "Afternoon, alien," he greeted in a neighborly way, "Nice of you to drop by," he chuckled. The creature did not appear to be able to appreciate his humor and may have been of a species that had not yet evolved such an advanced biological adaptation as a funny bone. Little Johnny shuddered at the thought.

"Alright, Mr. Alien, don't you fuss," he said as he bent down to pick up the little guy. It struggled weakly for a minute when he first lifted it up, but then relaxed in his arms. This may have been due to exhaustion, but Little Johnny felt certain it was out of trust, "I'm gonna take you back to my house and get you all fixed up. I'll give you a Band Aid and Mama keeps icepacks in the freezer. And then I can show you my toys."

***

When Big Johnny arrived home well after midnight, he had to all but carry his wife up the front steps and inside. She did love her some bluegrass and whiskey, especially the authentic kind like her daddy used to drink. As any good husband should, Big Johnny made sure she made it as far as the sofa in the living room before dropping her like a sack of potatoes and stumbling the rest of the way to the bedroom by himself. Big Johnny's wife and Little Johnny's mother (or Claudine as her parents had called her) was stirred awake by the impact of landing on the hard bar between the cushions of the couch. She opened her eyes. Her head was swirling and the room around her danced, but she could swear she was seeing the strangest thing in front of her. She squinted until the image was solid enough for her to make out. Sure enough, waddling across the living room carpet, long arms swinging back and forth as it toddled, was a small creature. Too big for a mouse. Her muddled brain struggled to identify the animal in her house.

Claudine's son followed closely behind the creature, dressed in his green and white striped pajamas.

"Johnny..." she called out to him. The boy paused and turned to her, his round, freckled face glowed in the moonlight filtering through the front window, "Didjou get a dog?" she asked him.

"That's just Marty," Little Johnny told her, "I found him in the field out back. Can I keep him? Please, Mama, please?" he begged.

Claudine was already fading again. Johnny sounded far away, like he was whining in another universe.

She sighed, "Jus' don' let 'im shii'on the carpet," she instructed and then passed out.