Peter had only just finished rereading his favorite book, about an ape and a canine, when a rock hit his living room window. Too intoxicated to move but too startled to sit still, he stood up slowly and removed the nearest picture to the cracked window in case of further rock spray, however unlikely.

Next came deciding his next move. Surely when an object, however usually inanimate, enacts violence on your property, you must take action. Seek recompense. Lower your brow in reprobation. Raise your voice at a suspicious passerby. He would have to scan the block for lawn mowers, surely, though he’d heard no mowers the entire morning. Plus, the grass was yet wet with dew, so who indeed would be mowing? Only a rather silly person. But that was beside the point. Peter briefly rationalized that a wet rock would not fly as far as a dry rock, but soon dismissed this too as beside the point. His living room window, he remembered, was quite close to the street.

It is OK to have a fourth beer before noon on Sunday.

Thoughts of wet rocks lead Peter to a bowl of cereal, which surely he would have poured by this time of day anyway. The roasted grain tasted strongly of gravel, he having so recently thought of stones. He remembered a YouTube video a friend once showed him, of a derelict describing how to pull stones from your pocket and put them in your mouth in a very particular order to trick yourself into believing each stone is new and surprising. This friend seemed to convey the paragraph read in the video was high art, great literature, but how? Whatever could it mean? Was it instructive?

Even after two bowls of cereal there were no signs of lawn mowers outside, not anywhere. Peter went back in and opened a fourth beer. It is OK to have a fourth beer before noon on Sunday. He grew happily drunk throughout the afternoon though still upset about the window when it entered his mind. Later, he went online and ordered whiskey stones. By this time he was quite high from having ingested 10 mg of marijuana, so he laughed about the congruity of his ordering stones today, the day he took a rock to his living room window.

When the sun set no one was yet held to account for the morning’s flying rock. Peter hung the picture back on his wall and watched a movie about a vengeful teenager. The whiskey stones would be delivered two days later. He would put them in his freezer and never use them.