under a blood red eye

The blood is beginning to drain out of my eye, back to my brain or wherever it came from. Every hour that passes, I look a little more normal. Youd think that Id be happy, but somehow Im not. Ive become attached to this blood-filled eye of mine over the past week or so. I like the look of it. It gives my face, which is usually about as bland as a sack of wet Wonder bread, a little life Like a brightly colored handkerchief jutting out of a jacket pocket, it adds a little pizzazz. Im going to miss it when its gone.

On the subject of the eye, I bumped into an old friend on the street a few days ago and he commented on it. He said, What did you do to your fucking eye, Mark? Without even pausing to think, I said, Well it was kind of expensive but Id been thinking about doing something like this for a long time now. Id actually been thinking about getting my tongue split, but I thought that this would be a little more visible. I was looking for a drastic change. I had to go to New York to have it done. He completely believed it It makes me think that maybe its not such a bad idea. (If I had the proper tools, I could have probably sold him a blood-eye of his own right there on the spot.)

I bet that within a month, the Queer Eye for the Straight Guy gang has incorporated the blood-eye into their standard makeover package.

Im taking advantage of the time I have left with my bloody eye by taking all the pictures that I can. I want something for every occasion. I want a shot with the bloody eye in a business suit, and with the bloody eye wearing only a towel. I want an entire library of images so that I never have to take another picture for the rest of my life. If I go for a vacation in the mountains, I want to be ready with a photo of me with the bloody eye in the mountains that I can send to my relatives. If I ever write a book, I want a picture of me with the bloody eye, smoking a pipe, for the back cover.

Lastly, while were on the subject of the eye, Id like to thank those of you who sent in images. Here are a few. The first one is from Kez. He thinks that the whole thing was a hoax perpetrated in Photoshop. I wouldnt put too much stock in his theory though – he also wanted me to extract some warm eyeball juice and sell it on ebay. The second image is from a boy in Atlanta named Ken. He suggested that my body had, without my knowledge, made a choice to evolve into an Arian speed dealer.

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