I've got a faucet in my eye. It's leaking and the droplets spill over my cheek, as if I'm crying all the time. Of course this is my own fault, the faucet had been leaking for over two months already and I should have called a plumber to get it fixed. But I didn't.
As I went to the doctor the people on the street stared strangely at me. The doctor asked me how I was. Not very well, I replied, since I have a faucet in my eye, and not only that, but it is leaking all the time too. How is the baby-boy, he asked. Fine, fine, I said. Is he eating well? Yes, he gets breastfed. And the wife, she fine too? No problems with the- You know: it hurts sometimes, especially when the baby bites. Can't you help me, I asked, pointing at the thing in my eye. He looked me up and down. Frowned. Yeah, you don't look well... Maybe you should consider sports it's healthy and you can meet people, make new friends, etc. You should think about yourself too, you know, being a young father and all, it can be hard. But the faucet, I muttered. Don't worry about it too much, ok? he said, everything will be alright. Consider sports. Promise me youĺl do that. He slapped me on the back and let me out.
As the doctor was unable or unwilling to help me, I went back home. How was it, what did he say, my wife asked. She was comforting the baby-boy. He was crying for some reason. He could not help me, I said. With my one good eye I looked at the toilet.
You see, it had happened that night when I had to pee. I did not want to put the light on for it would wake up the baby. And as I always pee sitting, especially at night with no light on, and as the faucet is in front of you when you sit... Well, I miscalculated and the thing got stuck in my eye. It hurt tremendously, and for a while I was not able to dislodge myself from my situation and I cursed myself that I had never called the plumber to fix the damn faucet.
Later at work, the faucet was still leaking on my cheek and I had bought a box of tissues to wipe away the so-called tears. My colleagues asked me if I was alright. I said: no, I have a faucet in my eyeball. It is sticking out, all shiny and polished, can't you see. How is the wife? How is the baby-boy? They slapped me on the back. You seem tired. It must be hard to be a young father. Maybe you should take a day off, unwind, get some rest. Even the boss advised me to go home. Nobody said anything about the faucet sticking out of my eyeball.
So that afternoon I went to the bar. And people asked me how I was, how's the wifey, the kid. It's a good thing you came here, you can relax a little. And I was sitting at the bar with that fucking faucet sticking out of my eye and leaking on my cheek as if I was crying. When everyone had gone home to eat, Marty, who was still polishing the wineglasses asked me if I was ok. “Fuck you, Marty,” I said, looking out of the window, “fuck you.”
30-12-09 4:00 AM