I am an avid rock collector. Not in the sense that, I spend thousands on massive crystals or unique stones, even though I do, but in the sense that I collect a rock practically everywhere I go. If I see a rock that strikes my fancy I’ll scoop it up and stuff it into my pocket. My basement has become a cavern of rocks and minerals of all sizes. I just really fucking love rocks they are so neat.
I was heading to the store one day when I came across a sign I’d never seen before. I went to Walmart on this road for years and I had never noticed this rusted, yellow sign off the side of the road. The sign was stood on a post full of rotted holes and splinters. The paint was flaking and faded, barely legible. The sign read “Haudenosaunee Indian Burial Ground”. I raised my eyebrow in curiosity. I grew aroused at the prospect of new stones and turned onto the dirt and gravel path into the woods.
The path went on for miles. By the time I was ten minutes in I thought about giving up, but at that point, I knew I had to be close. By twenty minutes I had given too much time to turn back now. After thirty minutes I was beginning to look for a spot to turn around when my car came to a sudden stop on an old wooden gate. It was rotted and nasty just like the post and my car had plowed right through it. Oh well, all these Native Americans are dead anyway.
I hopped out of my car and stepped over the fallen gate into a large clearing. In the center of the clearing was a mound of earth, only about fifteen feet in height. Brambles and thorns surrounded the mound on all sides but one, making a convenient path to look at the main attraction. The mound itself was rocky and rough like the dirt was ground-up sandpaper. Still, it was my bad for touching it in the first place.
I looked around for an information sign or something like these historical places usually have. There was nothing there but dense trees and thicket. I started to worry about skinwalkers or something, my sister used to cry when I would tell her that I saw one. She was twenty so I’m not a bully, God bless her soul. I whipped around on my heels to leave, but I was going empty-handed. I bent down and grabbed the first rock I saw, a nice round stone at the edge of the mound.
Getting back into my car I backed up for a ways but said fuck it and just turned around in the forest, slipping in between the narrow trees. However, when I faced forward, I was right next to the road I had started. Getting out of my car and looking back, there was no sign nor dirt path. All I had was the little round stone. I took the stone and threw it back into the woods. Schizophrenia or not, that was bad energy.
I headed back home after that, Walmart didn’t seem like the right place to process the fuckery I just witnessed. When I got back home and jogged back up to the door, something rough was rubbing against my leg. I pulled the same round stone out of my pocket. It was dimpled and rough, like sandstone. I was going to smash it with a hammer.
I sprinted into my house and long jumped down my stairs like Mario. Taking my trusty rock-splitting hammer and the untrusty rock, I brought it down with a single mighty swing. Inside the rock was hollow, and it had split perfectly along some invisible line. The rock contained a little homunculus man. It was all wet and made my hands tingle when I poked him. The little humanoid was pink like a baby mouse. I smashed it with my hammer again. Nasty pink juice sprayed all over the place and I almost threw up. God was pretty fucked up for making that monster rock baby thing.
I went upstairs and downed a fifth of vodka and then really threw up. That made me feel better, to empty all those bad emotions down the sink with the vomit. I then went upstairs and fell asleep at six in the afternoon.
I woke up three hours later to an awful grinding noise at my door. I swung open my bedroom door to find a little pink toddler-looking thing. It was unmistakably the same smooth monster-looking thing from the rock egg. It was grinding the few teeth it had grown against one of my rocks. Disgusted, I kicked it a few times and stomped it until it stopped moving. As I packed it into a garage I kinda felt bad for the poor thing. Still, not bad enough to not throw it away.
I went back to my basement to get my hammer and stayed down there. The basement had one entry point, so I could smash the fucker if it came back. I waited there for what felt like hours until I really needed to pee. I crept up the stairs, hammer close in hand, and got to the doorway. Suddenly, I was thrown backward down the stairs as the door swung open with great force. I hit my back too and it really hurt, like right in the small of the back on the spine, it really fucking hurts still.
At the top of the stairs, shrouded in my kitchen’s light, was the pink smooth monster baby toddler rock homunculus thing. It was still pink and smooth, but now it was ripped. Like, if this thing competed in Mr.Universe it would make it to the top five. It began to stomp down the stairs as I lay writhing in the immense pain I had just been subjected to. The big pink monster ripped the railing off of the stairs and fastened it into a spear by chewing on it.
When the monster got to me it took a stab at me. Luckily, I did karate, so I was able to dodge the massive spear. Unfortunately, it caught my side with a powerful kick that sent me into a shelf of rocks. I could feel warm liquid drain from my nose and ear. The monster began to stalk over to me and I couldn’t think of a brilliant plan. Then, it hit me. I had a hammer.
It approached me rapidly and set up a stab with its spear. I began to kick my legs rapidly in retaliation, almost like I was riding a bike. The monster took the bait and stabbed at my legs, which I had guarded with my rocks. When the monster wasn’t looking I had managed to tape a bunch of my rocks to my legs, making an armor.
I took my hammer and brought it down on the thing’s forearm and snapped it in two. The thing tried to hit me with a haymaker from the other arm, but I had also covered my head with rocks too, causing its hand to break from the impact.
Finally, I got a lucky shot on the thing’s skull. It went down and I proceeded to tenderize its head for eight minutes or so, at least until the need to pee outweighed the need to turn its head into a fine paste. I am now writing this on the toilet. The homunculus beast will come back and next time it will be even stronger. If I can get a gun I think I’ll be fine for a while, but not forever. I will probably die after writing this. So listen to me carefully. Do not steal. That is the moral.