Pink Eye

The little girl, a stout princess of two and a half, picked up the bottle of Orange Glo, turned the nozzle towards her precious baby blues, and pulled the trigger. The fine mist entered her eyes, nose, and mouth. Poison control advised tightly wrapping the child in a towel, laying her down in the tub, and pouring water over her eyes for five minutes. The girl has the strength of two three year olds and poison control might as well have instructed the anxious mother to insert an elephant in a thimble. Through much travail the mother prevailed. A trip to the doctor's office confirmed that the girl is just fine. Well, one wouldn't really say "just fine". Rather, one could say that she is the just the same as she was pre-Glo.

Rewind thirty years. A young boy, a stout cowboy of three or four, observes the goings-on in a bathroom shared by his parents and his older brother and sister. The sister is just old enough to begin using make-up. Finding himself alone in the bathroom while his family finishes dinner, the boy picks up a bottle, turns the cap, and pulls out a brush. The boy remembers seeing his sister use a brush like this on her eyelashes. He applies the brush to his eyelashes with eyes wide open to see the effect. The fingernail polish runs into his open eye. Years later, the family claims that the scream was so primal that they thought to find the boy dead. They wash out his eye, and he recovers to full heterosexuality.

Like father, like daughter.


Peace

UPDATE: See mom's version here.