Needing Goggles

Hrenik licked his fingertip before resetting the contact lens in his left eye.  He’d slept in them again.  He closed his eye hard and swirled his eyeballs under the lids.  Then did them up and down, then back and forth.  He stretched the lids out and blinked a few time till he was satisfied with the their fit.  He ended with rubbing a bit of goo out of the corner.

“Mother fucker, dude.  Never do that again.”

“¿Qué?” Hrenik asked.

“For starters you’re in my face.  Too close.” Ed measured the short distance from his chest to Hrenik’s with his finger like an angry clock pedulum.  “And your eyes are ridiculously fucking huge.  I don’t even know why the fuck that is.  Are you part fucking fish?”

Hrenik stepped back.  And started to say, “Yo no…”

“I know you’re not a fish.”  Ed’s freakout anger cooled quickly with the extra space.  “Sorry dude.  I’m just…just tired…you know?”

Hrenik cocked his head in an avian way to indicate the group of beings with them in the woods outside of Kansas City.  “Lo sé. Estamos todos cansados”.

“Dude.”  Ed reached to click the knob on Hrenik’s translator.  “I’m American.  Not fucking Mexican.”

“Lo sient…orry.”

“Gracias,” Ed said.

Day 368