This is a story that is probably best told through pictures and video than in written form. Since I have no photos to offer, I will try to paint the picture using the theater of the mind.
Imagine, if you will, one day waking up from a restful dream only to find one or more of your body parts has gone missing. This story is not about organ robbers and people waking up in a bathtub full of ice, missing a kidney, with a telephone taped to one hand and 9-1-1 on speed dial.
This is an exploration of the self. What makes us who we are? Are we the sum of our parts or is it the other way around? When we lose a part of ourselves, does a part of our soul die as well, that is, if you believe in a soul? DNA is in every fiber of our being; whose road map of what we are is indelibly marked and differentiates us from someone else. Yet, as the cell has the amazing and mysterious ability to replicate itself, so too does it have the master plan to recreate any other part of itself. What if, one day, it decided to secede from the union and venture forth autonomously? As a sentient being of free will, it breaks from the bonds of its host and seeks a new life filled with adventure and new experiences. Will it seek to return to its place of origin out of necessity? Can it live comfortably out of the bonds of the whole being? To what lengths will the incomplete being struggle to get part of itself back? This is our story…
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It is late at night in a darkened bedroom. A man sleeps peacefully on his back unaware of what is about to happen...
His eyes slowly open and scan across the room. When the eyes detect that the time is right, the eyelids open wider to reveal their color and the bloodshot veins are now visible. The eyes are now wide open and slowly continue to scan across the room. Without warning, the eyes extend further, past the eyelids and eventually we see two eyes fully distended in a Tex Avery caricature of the man. (Tex Avery’s cartoons famously depicted characters whose eyes pop out of their head when they see something of significant interest, usually a hot girl) With an audible “pop”, “pop”, sound, the eyes slowly inch their way, like a pair of snails, across the face and onto the bed sheets below. The person only stirs lightly as the eyes freeze in place, so as not to disturb the sleeper…
With a couple of wet “splats”, the eyes land on the floor below and make their way downstairs. A few quiet “thud, thud, thud’s”, are heard as the eyes descend the staircase. What mischief is in store for them?...
Just then, the sleeper awakes to a completely dark room. He uneasily makes his way to the bathroom and tries the light switch. Nothing seems to work. Frustrated with this apparent overnight blackout, the man attempts to take care of business by Braille. Once finished, he cautiously makes his way back into bed. In what seems like seconds later, his alarm clock goes off and he springs out of bed to shut it off. In doing so, he stumbles in the darkness, trips, and falls flat onto the floor with a deafening “thump”…
The eyes look upward from the television at the source of noise, briefly, and then continue watching “The View”…
With the alarm still shrieking in the background, the man tries in vain to locate the source of sound. With arms outstretched, he knocks over a reading lamp, the alarm clock, a pile of books, and finally, a half-filled glass of water which proceeds to fall to the ground in a million wet pieces. This poses a challenge for the man as he is not wearing his bunny slippers his mom got him last Christmas. Barefoot and blind, the man cautiously navigates his way through the glass to find the alarm clock…
The eyes, one balancing on top of the other, are downstairs trying to open the refrigerator…
The alarm clock, finally located, is silenced by a swift toss at the wall. “CRASH!!!”…
The eyes look up quickly again, lose their balance, and fall to the floor with another wet “splat”…
Blind and confused, the man finally realizes what has happened. He slowly navigates himself to the hallway at the top of the stairs. Just as he is about to grab the handrail, he steps into a wet puddle of eye slime and tumbles down the stairs “THUMP, BUMP, BOOM, CRASH!!!”…
The man gets up, slowly, and makes his way around the house. He listens intently as he tries to find his eyes. The sound of a distant lawnmower, a few birds, and children playing outside made it a little more difficult to listen for clues. Just then, he heard some shuffling in a corner…
The eyes were enjoying a game of poker. Their wet muscle tissue held their cards tight as they snuck occasional cheating glances at each others hand. Neither of them had anything good…
The man reached down, grabbed the eyes, and went upstairs to rinse them off. After refreshing his eyes, he popped them back in his skull and closed his eyes tightly. When he opened his eyes, he scanned the bedroom and surveyed the mess…
The man crawled back into bed and drew the covers back over his head. After taking a relaxing, deep breath, he said, “Okay, can you give me a hand with this?”…
His hands popped off and began to clean up the mess. One held the brush, the other, the dustpan. When they finished tidying up, they returned to their wrists and spent the rest of the morning in bed…
…and they all lived happily ever after…
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