You know what I hate about other kids? Their ignorance. Every day I watch them at school, giggling about whatever inanities occupied their minds that day, whining about their horrible, horrible parents, pointing and laughing at the kids who paid attention in class and kept to themselves. I am one of those kids. So is my buddy, Bob.
Okay, maybe it was a bit early to call him my buddy, but he soon would be. See, I’m a kind person by nature. When I see someone suffering, as Bob most undoubtedly was, I feel a pull within me, an urge to help in whatever way I can. Bob, like most kids in our position was lonely. He didn’t tend to show it, but I knew, deep down, he felt fragile and vulnerable. That is why I woke up early one morning, put on my lucky socks, and headed straight for Bob’s house.
Oh, yes, I should mention, Bob lives right next door to me. Funny, isn’t it? Ha.
I rang the doorbell and leaned against the porch railing in the coolest manner I could manage. I’m a cool person by nature, but sometimes even I can use a little boost. There was an odd delay between me pressing the button and the bell actually ringing. Weird. Maybe it was one of those neat electronic doorbells and the battery was running low.
Anyway, I stood by that door for ages, absolutely ages, waiting for it to open up. My feet were getting sore, and I couldn’t keep up that cool position forever. My legs were starting to burn with the effort. Eventually I gave up and hefted myself onto the porch railing to sit.
Only, well, did I mention Bob’s house is a bit on the older side? Yeah, so’s his railing. The wood crumbled beneath me like cardboard and I slammed into the prickly hedge behind it. It was at that moment that Bob decided to open the door.
He looked around, and then caught sight of my leg flailing over the side of the porch. Bob grabbed my shoe and pulled it, but it came clean off, and now one of my lucky socks were exposed to the world. I grunted and groaned and somehow managed to get a handhold on the porch. With a great huff I pulled myself up and lay sprawled across it. Bob helped me get to my feet.
You see, Bob’s a bit of an odd-looking fellow. Not that I care, of course. I’m an open-minded person by nature. Just, you tend to get a bit nervous when you notice his extra eyes and ears. I tried my best to focus on the two eyes closest to the front of his face. Didn’t want him to think me impolite.
Bob turned in a slow circle so that all his eyes could get a look at me. My favorite was the one near the top of his head. It was bright blue with green stripes, and it had six pupils. Finally, he took my arm and led me inside the house. Well, maybe led isn’t quite the right word. It was a bit more of a drag. A yank, if you will.
Anyway, when I was yanked into the house, the lights snapped on instantly. I had to cover my eyes, it was so bright! Bob must have had some of those motion-activiated lights installed. Neat.
I let my eyes adjust to the light and then took a glance around the room. It was like an entrance hall, but quite large. There were eyes in jars stacked in a corner. The walls were covered with paintings of eyes. Occasionally you’d see an ear mixed in with all the eyes. I liked the variety.
Bob pulled me across the room and opened another door, this one short and squat. In order to get through, Bob collapsed in on himself like a spider and crawled through. What a swell guy! I had to get on my belly and lug myself through. On the other side of the door was a cozy living room. Well, perhaps cozy isn’t the best word. A less adventurous person might’ve found it a bit unnerving. There were, for example, eyes instead of couches. Great big eyes. There were indents in some of them where people liked to sit. A nice big ear served as the coffee table. Bob walked over to it and picked up a hollowed eye full of a viscous juice. “Eye juice,” he explained when he saw me looking at it. He offered some to me but, see, I’m a humble person by nature. I denied it respectfully so as not to wear out my welcome.
Bob rolled his eyes, all of them, simultaneously, which was not scary, not one bit, and tossed me a candied eyeball. I looked at it. It looked at me. Bob watched the two of us. I couldn’t refuse now. That would be horribly impolite! What if he thought I didn’t like his cooking? I gave the eye an apologetic glance and popped it into my mouth. It tasted like eyes.
Bob let out a sort of harrumph and grabbed my arm again. He dragged me upstairs - up-ears, actually - and into what must have been his bedroom. He didn’t sleep on an eye, oddly enough. He used big two ears stitched together. He sat down on it, but I didn’t join him, just in case he didn’t really like people sitting next to him. Not because I minded the ears. I thought they were neat.
Then we stared at each other. I wondered if we were having a staring contest. Bob was cheating. He had extra eyes.
Then Bob got off the ears, which creaked loudly beneath him, and grabbed my chin. He poked me in the eye. “Ouch,” I said. Bob made that harrumphing sort of noise again and found a spoon. It was a nice spoon, the kind they used at fancy ice cream shops. Perhaps we would have some eyece cream.
Then Bob removed my eyes. I didn’t scream. Of course I didn’t. I’m a brave person by nature. Besides, eyes suck. They’re only good for sleeping on. Bob made me my own eye-bed, did I tell you? I couldn’t see it, but he told me. Then he took me down a steep flight of stairs and slammed the door behind me. Where was I? I didn’t know, but at least I had my comfy eye-bed. I lay down for a nap, but I felt something brush against me. Something alive, something warm. I felt the thing all over. A person. I ran my fingers across their face. He was missing his eyes, too. What a bummer!
I decided to let him have the eye-bed for now. I’m a generous person by nature. But I’d barely taken a step when someone else ran into me. I stumbled to the ground, and a third person stepped on me. I stood up, shouted at everyone to stand still, and felt around the room carefully. Thirteen people - no, fourteen. One had lost not only his eyes, but his neck and torso and arms and legs and half an ear too. He was rolling on the ground.
Yes, that’s how it ended. Me and my friends, we lived there in harmony. Occasionally Bob, out of the goodness of his heart, came down and tossed us a sausage. Life was good. Very good. In fact, Bob said he’d give me access to the Internet - with a speech-to-text device! - if I did him a favor.
Bob needs new eyes. New human eyes. Would you be so kind as to give them to him?
Surely you would?
Yes, I knew you’d agree! Bob’s already tracked down your location. He told me to tell you to give your eyes a quick wash-down with Lysol to make sure they’re good for the road.
Thank you for your contribution, friend! I hope to see you - hehe - soon.