No, doc, I don’t want Bette Davis eyes
A year ago, my optometrist said, “you’re going to need to do something about the cataract in your right eye.”
Thinking he meant, a waterfall, I said I hadn’t been dripping water, tears-wise or otherwise.
Noticing that I was driving blind more often than not, I went to an eye doctor a week ago and he said, “Holy crap, man, you’re still looking at the world with eyes made during World War II when factories slapped out millions of eyes per second without a lot of paperwork for the war effort.”
He surfed out to Wikipedia where he gets most of his medical information and showed me an eye diagram. “When you were born, we didn’t know about half this stuff, so your eyes not only aren’t compatible with Windows 10, you’re missing a lot of the world’s important developments such as texting and more nudity.”
He got out a catalogue published by the American Academy of Ophthalmology called “Fabulous Eyes.” It contained a list of the replacement eyes available for those of us about to undergo cataract surgery.
“I remember the song,” I said.
“According to the song, with these eyes you’ll either know how to make a ‘crow blush’ or a ‘pro blush’ depending on which recorded version of the song you like.”
I informed him that Bette Davis’ eyes were older than the ones I was currently using and probably had fewer working parts.
As it turns out, there are more eyes out there than you can poke out while running with scissors. Since they (the eyes) are purportedly windows of the soul, I didn’t want to make a flippant choice. Truth be told, I’ve gotten used to the way I’ve always seen things even though I’m seeing less other them.
In “My Ancestor Was an Ancient Astronaut,” Toba Beta wrote, “Eyes shows lies.” That ruled out a lot of eye models, especially those from celebrities, political candidates and serial killers.
Finally, it appeared that I was best suited for a combination eye, one with the attributes of John Muir, Albert Einstein and a dash of Paul Newman. “Eyes don’t make you smart,” the doc cautioned, saying that I shouldn’t expect to be rich and famous with rich and famous eyes looking out at the world.
“With the MENJ38-25774 eyes, you might go into the salad dressing business or be able to shoot a good game of pool.”
“More likely,” I said, seeing through my glasses darkly, “I’ll turn into Brick Pollitt and say, ‘I’m ashamed, Big Daddy. That’s why I’m a drunk. When I’m drunk, I can stand myself.'”
“That can happen,” he said. “My assistant here thinks she’s Helen of Troy and wants go go into the ship launching business.”
Frankly, I thought his assistant looked more like Bette Davis.