I run down hills, swim through creeks, and fly through the air away from the hand that throws me. I am a rock superhero. I could be used to make a building or skillfully crafted into a magnificent statue, but I chose my fate and will stick with until I disintegrate. I have stopped many thieves who crushed their evil toes and tripped over me. I have been in the action, used as a weapon against felons.

My task today is simple and great: help a monkey execute her great escape! She will hit me against the bars that hold her dear as I push hard with my weathered arms. The iron is rough against my body. The monkey struggles and gives up, dropping me to the ground. I can feel her immense sadness and clouded mind. We almost give up hope when I hear a screech! The iron bars vanish into the sky as a pigeon with man arms yells, “YEEEET!” as loud as a giraffe.

The monkey rejoices, runs out of the cage, and steps on me. I want to feel happy for her and to thank the pigeon man, but I just can’t. I am always used but never thanked; always part of the action but never part of the story.

I can’t do this anymore. I am done being the nice guy! From now on and until I disintegrate, villainy will be my fate. They will remember my name, and I will be in every story. No longer will I fly from the hand that throws me, but I will sprout my own wings and throw the hand. Beware!