Purple Circles

Last summer my eyes broke.  They would burn in the morning and I’d rub them.   I would look at my eyes in mirrors and see that there were red lines growing all over them.  “Shit,” I thought.  I washed them with water, then alcohol, then peroxide, but the red lines kept growing.

After my eyes broke I started seeing things.  I’d walk down the street and look at people.  All their bodies looked fine, but their heads were different.  They all just looked like big purple circles.  Everyone, in bars, at my job, everywhere, had big purple circles where their heads ought to be.  It was damn confusing.

I was shy at first.  After awhile, I started telling people.  I asked one lady if I could touch her head and she said “sure.”  I touched it and it felt like a head but when I pulled my hand back it was covered in purple liquid.  “Must be her makeup,” I thought.

Everybody knew soon enough.  They’d come up to me and say, “Hey, aren’t you that guy that only sees purple circles instead of people’s faces?”  I’d say, “Yeah, that’s me.”  They’d go, “Hmmm, interesting.”

That’s when the harassment started.  People began mugging me constantly.  All I’d see would be a couple big purple orbs with hands holding guns.  A couple times I was beaten badly.  They’d throw me down and kick me until I started shitting blood.  There were also times when I was sexually violated.  I’d be face down in the street and I’d look over my shoulder to see a big purple circle riding me in ecstasy.

It got to the point where every time I’d step out the house, something bad would happen.  I was always bleeding and my body hurt.  I had to protect myself, so I got a hatchet from the fifty cent store.  I hid it in my pants pocket.  It felt good to have something to protect myself with, and that’s what I thought when I was attacked on the street again by some guy with a knife.  He started pulling my pants down, and he was saying that he was going to cut my “thing” off.  That was about all I had to hear.  I took out my hatchet and started whacking him with it.  He fell down and I kept whacking him in the neck until his purple circle popped off and rolled down the street.

A few hours later I was in prison.  A lawyer came into my cell.  He looked just like everyone else, but better dressed.

“Do you realize what you’ve done?” he asked, sounding concerned.  “Not really,” I said.  “You’ve just decapitated our governor!” he shouted.  “Damn you to hell!”

I rubbed my eyes and, just for a second, I could see his face.

I was so happy.

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