The rock was styrofoam, left over from a film shoot down the block. There must be a warehouse for these things like this, some thoroughly cataloged and meta-tagged archive.

Someone searches for the prop, sucking her lip while poking about for the right keywords. Howzabout ROCK. STONE. BOULDER. And then let’s see TOUGH. SIMPLE. SERENE. Exasperation lends itself to the less obvious LONGNOW. CRASHLAND. DINODOOM.

If search results are limited it’s because I’ve got your object and I won’t give it back.

A burglar in comfortable clothes finds an overlooked plane on the Tarmac. He has a quick chat with the engine and takes off, a slow spiral through a quickly-closing gap in the clouds. Leaving the thing on autopilot for a few nights. Why not? With him are two children, one of whom hates being trapped on the airplane while the other can’t sleep for the excitement. While the burglar sleeps they bounce through the rooms, the one tossing the furniture and the other catching.