MY LIFE AS A ROCK by Squiggles the Rock | Teen Ink

MY LIFE AS A ROCK by Squiggles the Rock

October 8, 2007
By Melanie Thibeault SILVER, Attleboro, Massachusetts
Melanie Thibeault SILVER, Attleboro, Massachusetts
5 articles 0 photos 0 comments

What an interesting day I’ve had. After being disrupted from my 12-hour nap by what felt like an earthquake but was actually my tin box being relocated by a human, I was dumped on a table along with my rock brothers and sisters. I smacked my head on a large black rock as I tumbled out of the tin container I had spent a few months of my life in, and now I have a massive headache.

After being neglected for five minutes, someone finally picked me up, and I was rudely shuffled from hand to hand. Some people just have no consideration for rocks’ feelings. Just because we have a hard exterior, doesn’t mean we don’t have thoughts and emotions. We are people, too. Well, not exactly, but you get my point. Anyway, I was finally chosen by a teenager in a bright orange sweatshirt. Apparently, “We match.”

“Swell,” I thought to myself. “We can look like the Olsen twins.”

Immediately after meeting my new caretaker, I was carried over to a small desk. My new owner dropped me on the ground, as if I didn’t already have a headache. “Real smooth,” I thought silently. After being smashed on the desk to see what sound I make (personally, I thought I sounded like a rock being dropped on a desk), I was smelled by my owner and her friends. Talk about an invasion of privacy. I don’t go around smelling humans. Granted, I don’t have a nose, but if I did, I would rather smell roses or coffee.

Then, after a two-minute search in which I attempted to hide under Melanie, my owner’s, chair, I was found and given a name. I would ask you to guess it, but it’s most likely impossible. It would be easier to guess Rumpelstiltskin’s name. I’ll just tell you. It’s Squiggles Sundance, and I don’t know why. I thought my name was Fred, but I guess when you get a new owner, they change your name. Oh well, at least I’m not named Elf Fairy, as Jaime’s rock is. I should be thankful for that.

After being assigned a name, I took a bath when my owner poured water on me. It was rather refreshing. It reminded me of the old days when I lived on the seashore and played in the tide with my brothers and sisters. Ah, the good old days. Maybe my owner will take me to the beach one day. For now, I’ll just rest in my new blue box and take a nap. I have to say, it is much more comfortable than being crammed in a tin can with one hundred other rocks. It was very difficult to fall asleep with Carl snoring, and in my new box, I have room for that big screen TV I’ve always wanted. Hello, “American Idol.”

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