Through the Glass Eye


I’ve adopted a fantastic new hobby. Embarrassing myself in public places. Perhaps its a wicked universal come-back biting me on the bottom for all the pranks I’ve pulled on people in my younger years.[I’d like to mention my brother, for showing me the tricks of the trade]. I’ll never forget the Sunday morning we unscrewed the door handle of my parent’s bedroom door so – with the key on THEIR side of the door, they were strangely unable to open it… An amazing childhood, I had. Never a dull moment – except for Sunday afternoons when my parents took a nap and the rest of us pesky kids tried to see who could finish most of the Sunday Lunch leftovers unnoticed. My brother usually won. So – today, I’m living in res. I don’t get to steal left-overs, and since I don’t know anyone well enough to dare it – I am void of pranking opportunities. BUT I have had the marvelous opportunity to watch a glass go through 3 of its last lives while the entire dining room stares at me in astonishment. The facts as far as I can recall:I casually slid my lunch tray into the trolley, where all the lunch trays go, faking along with it a gleaming positive self-image. Suddenly, with this surge of self assurance I decide to push the tray harder since it seemed something was in the way, and alas, out – on the the other side – pops a typical state subsidised glass. It hops off the side of the trolley – up into the air, down onto the floor, miraculously making yet another unshattered leap into the air before it came down at once smashing as it reaches the floor into one million darling little glass crystals. Its history made complete, along with the awareness that my entire blood supply was now situated in my face.That’s how my meals are going. Now – not only do I Get to pay for my own meals – but I get to supply myself with endless moments of trauma. Luckily not to the head – but merely to the heart.