Late night revelations

Forgive Me.

“I’m losing my eyes,” she said. No one tells you that you lose your eyes.

They don’t tell you when you’re two years old, staring into your Mother’s eyes, and eating a graham cracker cookie. “Enjoy it, girl, because one day you’re going to need reading glasses in order to see.”

Maybe they should develop an app for that. Right away. And market it to toddlers.

Even better.

Maybe they should develop a downloadable educational application on itunes that communicates to toddlers the more realistic view of their future.

Alongside the soft downy micro-fibre-fur of lovable Elmo, can be the Elma, the hardened ex-alcoholic, puppet who has the 12-step program to thank for her comeback, who alerts the two and under set, using a basic 240-word common core accepted vocabulary, about the realities of the inevitable loss of their physical habitat due to climate change.

Using the lastest technology, developed in small industrial labs that no one visits without at least four pages of paperwork, Elma will tell stories via touch screen.

She is accessible through a small rectangular button on an iphone that always stays on your home screen blinking, and is downloadable in chicken soup during sick days.

Parents use her presence, to torture their children, or induce consequences.

The only unfortunate part about the whole situation, is that she is real.

And she is given so much material, that she can speak for days on end. What with the Boston Marathon, the crazies with their unbelievable thinking, and the whole darn thing that we started when we believed arms were somehow a part of the human body.

“I’m losing my eyes,” she said. No one tells you that you lose your eyes. No one tells you that. You have to find out on your own.”

“That’s, what makes it easier to let go,” he said.

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