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Throwing Stones

Once when I was about thirteen, I trotted off to my friend Tim's house. There wasn't much to do at his, aside from playing Playstation 2, and being an Xbox man I wasn't too into the concept of playing that horrible, horrible console.

Fortunately, right near to Tim's house is a park, and so we went off there for something to do. The majority of the park is open green, though at the bottom are a few sets of park equipment targeted at different age groups - none of it too interesting. Along one side of the park is an enormous stretch of open soil planted with bushes, shrubs and trees.

Along this area also sits the wall of a DIY store, easily visible in some places because of very small shrubs and bushes pulled apart by children making dens.

So one day, bored of swinging on swings and sliding down slides and finding weird stuff in the young children's part of the park (a story for another day), we decided we would do the only obvious and logical thing there was to do; we would throw stones from the open stretch of soil onto the roof of the DIY store.

This continued for some time with a mixture of success and failure as many stones fell short of their intended target.

Then one of the shop employees came into the park.

I told Tim we ought to go, so we dropped what we were doing, backed off from the wall and headed in the opposite direction to which the man was coming from. I believed we would be able to get out before him and he would give up following; we weren't running, but surely he would think if we were, then we were the responsible ones. So walking seemed logical and natural.

Walking was not enough. We were caught up with less than twenty metres away and asked if we were throwing stones on the roof.

Did I tell him?

Fuck off. Instead I said, "No, it was some other boys, but they've gone now."

I told him this despite the fact that the park was effectively empty but us. I told him this despite the fact he saw us, and no one else, right beside the wall. I told him this, apparently forgetting about that thing called sight, which allowed him to see us throwing things before we noticed him.

Still, it worked. After telling us why he didn't like people doing it, he fucked off.

But I don't get why he wanted us to stop though. I mean: can stones really do that much damage to a thick metal roof?

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	Throwing Stones Once when I was about thirteen, I trotted off to my friend Tim's house. There wasn't much to do at his, aside from playing Playstation 2, and being an Xbox man I wasn't too into the concept of playing that horrible, horrible console. Fortunately, right near to Tim's house is a park, and so we went off there for something to do. The majority of the park is open green, though at the bottom are a few sets of park equipment targeted at different age groups - none of it too interesting. Along one side of the park is an enormous stretch of open soil planted with bushes, shrubs and trees. Along this area also sits the wall of a DIY store, easily visible in some places because of very small shrubs and bushes pulled apart by children making dens. So one day, bored of swinging on swings and sliding down slides and finding weird stuff in the young children's part of the park (a story for another day), we decided we would do the only obvious and logical thing there was to do; we would throw stones from the open stretch of soil onto the roof of the DIY store. This continued for some time with a mixture of success and failure as many stones fell short of their intended target. Then one of the shop employees came into the park. I told Tim we ought to go, so we dropped what we were doing, backed off from the wall and headed in the opposite direction to which the man was coming from. I believed we would be able to get out before him and he would give up following; we weren't running, but surely he would think if we were, then we were the responsible ones. So walking seemed logical and natural. Walking was not enough. We were caught up with less than twenty metres away and asked if we were throwing stones on the roof. Did I tell him? Fuck off. Instead I said, "No, it was some other boys, but they've gone now." I told him this despite the fact that the park was effectively empty but us. I told him this despite the fact he saw us, and no one else, right beside the wall. I told him this, apparently forgetting about that thing called sight, which allowed him to see us throwing things before we noticed him. Still, it worked. After telling us why he didn't like people doing it, he fucked off. But I don't get why he wanted us to stop though. I mean: can stones really do that much damage to a thick metal roof?