Monday, November 10, 2008

Eyes suck!

I think my last blog post well illustrates how crappy my life had become. Not convinced? Here’s another example guaranteed to suck the pity out of anyone.

This weekend I sat at home alone with only a two-story house shielding me from raindrops of various sizes that were skiing healthily down our window panes. At first I had tried whiling away the time with exercise videos but got sick of the parts where the lady told me to try each one. Those moves were way to gymnasticky. So then once I finally found an alternative time-waster my mom came up to me and said, “Jolly, I wish you would stop reading wallpaper sample catalogs.”

“But they’re so easy,” I cried.

“The doctor says if you don’t give it up soon, you may choke because your allergy to dogs may be triggered by the smell of the samples.”

“Oh no! I’d better tell Juice to stop too.”

I dashed out of the house, thinking as I ran to Juice’s, “Maybe if I run fast enough the trees will stop throwing wet leaves at me. I hope it’s not too late!”

Juice met me at her front door in a purple sweatsuit. By that time the rain had stopped.

“Juice, we’ve got to stop reading wallpaper samples!” I panted.

“Just let me change clothes,” she said. “Meet me in the backyard. I want to swing while it’s still muddy outside.”

By the time I reached the backyard, Juice was already waiting for me on the tree swing. She was wearing red pants, a gray turtleneck, and a white leopard-print jacket.

“Why did you have to change your clothes, Juice?” I asked. “Sudden phase change?”

“No. My eyes leaked on the others.”

“Oh no!” I cried, kneeling beside her as she swung back and forth, nearly hitting me in the face with her right hip every swing. “The wallpaper samples have already struck! Is there anything I can do, my dear friend? Need a tissue?”

“It’s no use,” she sniffled as her eyes leaked black goo. “My doctor sent me a generic informational e-mail telling me I’ll have to have eye implants. My only comfort is sitting on this wet swing and pretending I’m being kissed.”

I watched as Juice’s leaking eye goo became clear. “If I were a boy, I’d kiss you, but I have a better idea,” I said. “I could give you my eyes. I’m sick of seeing my ugly face.”

“So am I.” Juice wept. “Plus I’ve always hated your eyes. They look like frogs. Still, I’d rather you be blind then me.”

“Thanks, Juice,” I said, stopping her swing and hugging her. “You can be my special seeing-eye dog, and I’ll give you a biscuit every time you roll over. Whoops!”

I had just realized that my eyes were leaking too.

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