So Wrong Even a One-Eyed Mule in a Root Cellar Could See It’s Bad

It looks like a baby. A scintillating baby refracted through a shattered prism. You could perhaps convince yourself that the effect arises from your smashed spectacles, but you cannot recall smashing them.

But, hey, let’s pretend you did break your specs – in a dust-off, a tumble, what have you. You could take them off, but a one-eyed mule in a root cellar sees better than you. You couldn’t tell a baby from a coal chute from more than a pace or two away.

Lucky for you, these shiny babies like you. They’re mewing as they toddle toward you. It’s hard to tell through the broken sparkliness, but they seem a might bit steadier than your average toddler. The mewing reminds you of hungry kittens. You try to recall if the town has a wet nurse.

They cover the last few paces between you and them in bounds. Whether your mouth falls open because of the bounding or the sight of a mouth no wet nurse would want her bosoms near, let alone in, we will never know because, even if the blood loss wasn’t killing you, you never learned to write and your throat seems to have gone missing.

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About Cary

I write, more nonfiction than fiction lately, and that's mainly because I started a podcast about the history and culture of Brazil. Reading for that is dominating my reading time too - as you might have guessed. I'm an American expat who lives in southern Brazil. Aside from history, reading and podcasting, I enjoy cooking, hiking and improving my Portuguese. I teach English for a living. View all posts by Cary

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