Do my eyes deceive me? Yes, yes, they do. I hate when my eyes lie to me. Like the other day, when they tried telling me I could shoot laser beams out of them. Needless to say, that PowerPoint presentation didn’t go as planned. Or the time they swore there was a snake in the yard. I conjured up a heroic battle plan, only to get closer and realize it was just a garden hose taking a leisurely sunbath.
My eyes also have a bad habit of convincing me I look good in an outfit. But when I’m met with stares everywhere I go, I start thinking maybe my outfit should’ve been an infit. What made me believe I could pull off those zebra-pattern footie pajamas? Wearing stripes was so last Fourth of July.
And speaking of stairs, my eyes have tricked me too many times into believing there’s one more step when there isn’t. I’ve mastered the art of the phantom step stumble—a special kind of dance move that involves flailing arms and a dramatic gasp.
Oh, and let’s not forget the time they insisted I’d found Waldo in The Cat in the Hat. Really, Waldo? What would he be doing there? Borrowing the hat for a bold new look? I guess that’s what happens when you take fashion advice from a feline. Then again, they do call it the catwalk for a reason. Of course, if I was walking down it, I would probably do the phantom step stumble.
Maybe Waldo’s eyes were just playing tricks on him too. One day, I’d love to return the favor and play a trick on my eyes. “Hey, peepers, how about a nice spa day? A little cucumber treatment?” Only I’d replace the cucumbers with onions. Let’s see how they like that. Maybe then they would finally stop deceiving me.
