Some millions of years ago in the depths of space a large
chunk of rock smashed into another large chunk of rock. The resulting collision
sent an almost innumerable amount of shrapnel in every direction. In order of
magnitude, the rock that ended up going through Don Johnson’s skull was the
8,435,345th largest. It had no hopes or aspirations, no utility
whatsoever. Merely the resultant effect of an event set forth by the creation
of the universe.
And they say determinism is all hogwash!
As a dying dinosaur looked to the ashen sky, a great
crater smoldering across the world, the rock slowly span in and out of view.
Uncaring of that great meteor which had just struck the world. Thousands of
times its size, formed for some other great purpose. Ending its million year
journey in the Yucatán. Or what would eventually be called so.
As Martin Luther looked to the sky after nailing a piece
of paper to the church door, the rock tumbled unaware of its great purpose. Of
its divinely inspired mission. More pure than Manifest Destiny. Just entering
the confines of our solar system, peering at Pluto. The planet, or planetoid.
The distinction of no apparent value. All its brethren living out the rest of
eternity floating aimlessly in the void, the rock felt the full force of
gravity for the first time in eons.
Don Johnson looked at the starless sky from the brightly
lit stage, crowds of cheering and histrionic supporters at his feet. Supporters
maybe, but definitely fans. A small boulder slowing burning up in the
atmosphere.
"This is our night! It’s time to take back this great
country once and for all. The polls close in just a few minutes, but I’m pretty
much ready to call this one for us!"
The crowd went wild. The rock, now the size of a thimble,
charred by its harsh entry slowed to the speed of a bullet, for the first time
in millions of years felt ready for something different.
"Our mission is inspired by God. And if he hath any qualms
with my presidency, may he strike me down this very moment!"
The rock in all its ethereal glory flew straight through
Don Johnson’s brain stem. Killing him immediately. The crowd chuckled at this
welcomed sight of slapstick he’d been so well known for. And as the laughter
died down he never got up.
The rock was dislodged from his corpse and tossed aside.
Don Johnson’s body buried the next few days and began to slowly decompose. Eventually, every single member of the
audience died too. The rock nestled into the ground ready for the
long haul. The only remaining memory of a moment long lost to history.
The Earth eventually was hit by an even larger rock that
killed the rest of the humans. And from the ashes new forms evolved. And those
too were eventually destroyed. At the hand of God, or nature. It doesn't really
matter. Determined ambivalence.
And as pressure built and continents drifted the small
stone was ground up and fully assimilated into the world. Claiming just as much
ownership of it as anyone else.
