The Needle

There's a giant sewing needle in my right eye. I think it's called a doll needle, and it measures about four inches in length. Sometime between last night and this morning I must have stuck it in there. I shouldn't have left it near my bed, but who could have predicted a dream about sleeping with my own mother?

I have looked in the mirror and have poked at my eye with pliers, but the needle is too deep. I cannot see its eye within my own. I know it's there because it's no longer on the bedside table, and I can feel it needling my brain. My eye, not used to such treatment, constantly spots cockroaches in its peripheral vision.

The needle digs deeper. Oh, why did I enjoy so many brands of beer so carelessly?
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