When I came home from work I found Bullwinkle sitting on my couch,
drinking a Coke, and watching TV. His legs stretched out so far that
he didn't need the remote to turn down the volume; he just tapped
the TV's VOLUME button with a hoof so hard it could have put a hole
through the screen. He turned his head toward me and grunted as his
right antler bumped against the ceiling. I stared into two iris-less
ink black pupils, suspended in two big white ovals that took up nearly
half his face.
His eyes narrowed. Before I could even think of running he reached out
and wrapped his four-fingered hand around my wrist.
"What's the hurry?" he asked, but not in the voice he used on his show.
The voice was my father's.
"Bullwinkle's Eyes" copyright © 1998-2002 by Tom Hartley.