The Curse of Gary (Part 23)

The blind man placed the gun on the floor by his feet.

“To think,” he said, “that Gloucester may yet see the Daystar rise upon England’s emerald dales once more. The blush of autumn, the bloom of spring—and to look upon thy face again, Edgar, my son.” He smiled and sighed, but then his look grew dark. “Ye have promised me sight… and now ye must deliver. Anon!”

Victor stood up.

“Yeah, of course, I’ve got your sight right here. It’s, uh, the latest device, guaranteed to make you see again.”

The blind man smiled and shuffled toward Victor, his arms stretched out. Victor took his hands and steadied him, eyeing the weapon on the floor.

“Ah, my son, what device can bring sight to the blind?”

Victor took off his sunglasses.

“Well, the technology is new, and, uh, it only works on a particular type of man—one such as yourself, I’m certain.”

“Be it so?” said the blind man. “A particular type of man?”

“Yes. These looking glasses fit over your eyes and allow you to see perfectly, just so long…”

“Yes?”

“So long as you have a big penis.”

The blind man backed up a step. “What?” he said.

“The sight mechanism works perfectly, you understand, just so long as the person wearing the glasses has a large penis. So it will work for you I’m sure.”

The blind man straightened himself up. “Of course,” he squeaked, before clearing his throat. “Of course,” he continued, his voice deepening.

“Exactly,” said Victor. “I knew it wouldn’t be an issue. If it was someone with a small penis, or even average sized, the glasses wouldn’t work and the person would remain blind—but for you the glasses should work a treat.”

“A treat?”

“They should work well.”

“Oh.”

“And they will work for you because you have a big penis. Right?”

The blind man put his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest. “Definitely,” he grunted. “No problem here. All the fair maidens know Gloucester, fear ye not about that.”

Victor laughed with a hefty dose of machismo. “Damn straight! I knew as soon as I saw you. I said to myself, ‘This guy knows how to please the ladies.’ Am I right, Big G?”

The flattery hit its mark.

“Verily, verily! The renown of my love-making extends as far and wide as the cedar trunk swinging between my thighs.”

Victor recoiled a little but kept up the act. “Oh-ho yeah. Now, I’ll just slip these glasses on your face… there we go. It might take a few moments, but soon you’ll be able to see as clear as if you had eyes again.”

The blind man waited. A bead of sweat crawled down his face.

Victor stepped to the side, closer to the gun. “How are those glasses working out, Gloucester?”

The blind man lifted his hands to his face and felt the Ray-Bans. He pushed them right up on his nose. A silent minute passed and another drop of sweat formed on his temple. With a hint of frustration he pressed the lenses hard against his eye sockets and moved his head around.

“You should be able to see by now,” said Victor. “Unless…”

“Yes,” the blind man almost shouted as he stepped away from Victor. “Yes, of course I can see. Ha-ha. I am blind no more. It just, uh… just took a while. But verily, I see.”

“Fantastic,” said Victor.

“Indeed,” said the blind man. “I see all the… things… colours… all of it.”

He turned around, stooped over with his hands extended in front of him, and took a few cautious steps. Victor crouched over the Tommy Gun and looked it over. He had never fired a gun before.

 

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