Crunchy Eyes

I winked at her five times, adding a sixth for good graces. She yawned. Asked me to pass the granola. Passed over for rolled oats, waxy raisins, and indigestible flaxseeds, I ceased the winks, pointed my eyes down and away. The night lumbered on.

With sixty minutes between us and the winks, my eyes dry went for the blink. She mistook it a wink, yawned. Pass the granola. Another twenty past, the same eye down, yawn, granola gimme gimme. What Pavlovian eyes you have my dear.

She getting fattened on the crunch of hippie manna, I surrendered. Taped them both open for both our sakes. No need to pass the granola with the wink when never blinking can be seen. The scotch tape held too short, the gaff tape held too long. The duct tape help just right.

Funny looking face she told me I had. All to quickly my vanity took hold and anger filled up. She could never tell though because my face was frozen. Eyes open. Brow lifted. Surprised, shocked, slightly concerned were all I would ever be. For the sake of her and our granola.

And so we sat. Never blinking nor winking nor yawning nor eating until twelve days passed. On the twelfth day my eyes withered away. The tape remained. She saw my eyes gone first, stifled a laugh, yawned, asked me to pass the granola.