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The pair of eyeglasses was puzzled. Standing up on end, they swiveled left, then right, looking for an obvious pair of eyes to hook on to. But none appeared. All the figures passing moved so fast, and left little opportunity ; a fair number of them were already inhabited. What to do, what to do? The need to be useful was strong today, stronger than it had been in weeks. The eyeglasses nudged itself over to the street bum, and polished themselves quickly on a corner of his mat when he wasn't looking - then tried to lounge fashionably next to him, hoping the would wake. Pursuing a street bum! Wanton! A week ago the eyeglasses would not have even considered it , but - a week! They would never have believed it, and hoped The Maker could not see them now. The bum stirred, then suddenly rolled over. The pair skittered away, frightened. They didn't want a replay of the brief stint with Grandpa - he nearly sat on them twice before they decided to hit the road. The bum sat up, bleary-eyed. He scratched himself all over. The eyeglasses shot out a questioning stem. The bum reached into his coat pocket and drew out - an old scratched pair of spectacles! Nooooo! The eyeglasses howled in despair. It wasn't fair - he recognized those sluts from 42nd St! He had even helped them out once. The "cat eyes" squirmed in delight as the bum regarded them and then put them on.
"That's him, officer! That's the man!" A distressed lady pointed at the bum, "He's even wearing them - in public, of all the galling nerve!"
"Calm down, Ma'am," the cop said sternly. But this was all the eyeglasses heard, as their whole world was changed as a 13 yr old boy scooped them up. This was dangerous territory! Drop your guard for a second ... oh well. They strained to look up at their new owner, but all they saw was fingers. And he could barely see them through the overlay of greasy fingerprints now covering his entire body. Then there were eyes, squinting blinking eyes. The kid was telling his friend: "You gotta try this! The world's all weird." But the spectacles weren't listening. They were staring, nay glaring fiercely at their archnemesis - his contact lenses! Those plastic obscenities, adhering to the ocular orbs like some kind of parasitic film - optical leeches that took all they wanted and gave nothing back.
