Numbing pain aroused me from a troubled sleep. A faint squeaking filtered through my ears. When I opened my eyes I saw mice scampered around a clear box which encased my head. Slamming my fists against the container did no good. It did not break. The mice just scurried about more furiously.
Memories of the previous evening entered my mind. Joe had invited me to his house for dinner. I hated Joe. He was a boor, but I considered myself to be gracious so I accepted. The food was mediocre at best. I put on a smile and ate it anyway. He showed me his collection of—I don’t remember what it was—and feigned interest. We settled into chairs in his little, dark den and drank terrible wine. Glancing at my watch, I decided I had stayed long enough to be considered polite and tried to stand but fell back into the chair, feeling disoriented and dizzy.
“Do you know what I hate most about you?” Joe said. “Your eyes. They have such contempt in them. You think you are being charming, but you cannot mask your true opinion of me. Some people may think your eyes are attractive, mesmerizing and cordial. The way he looks at you as you speak, they say, you can tell he’s truly interested in you as a person. Are they blind? Can’t they see that your eyes are the windows to your soul, and your soul is dead? You care only for yourself. You think everyone around you is stupid, and you can fool them with your casual smile and tilt of the head. You don’t fool me. No one will be fooled by your eyes again.”
Those were the last words I remembered Joe saying before I passed out. Looking around the room I saw I was still in his den. He was sitting in one of the chairs, sipping on a glass of wine. I screamed as a mouse nibbled on my ear lobe. Jerking around, I felt the mice flying about my heard and heard them squealing. In desperation I ran into the wall, hoping the impact would crack the box. The mice clawed into my hair. I banged my head against the wall several more times.
Joe laughed as he poured himself more wine.
“For God’s sake! Help!” I ran to him, falling to my knees and groveling.
He continued to laugh and tap on the sides of the box. The mice became more agitated and scrambled across my cheeks. The stinging sensation of my skin made me try to feel my face but my hands only scratched the clear surface.
“I’m sorry! Please forgive me! We can be friends!”
I screamed, but a mouse tried to clamber into my mouth. I tried to spit it out. I felt it bite my tongue. Falling back I banged my head on the floor. Instinctively I thrust my head back against the floor several times. The mice crept across my forehead, peering down at me.
“Not the eyes! For God’s sake, not the eyes!”