The operation had been a success, all the tests suggested that his sight had been restored completely. He’d been home for a week and a half and she watched as the bandages were taken tentatively off, a long, slow, methodical unwrapping.
He blinked, startled by the sudden influx of colour and shape, edge and contrast. It was so bright, so glaring, setting the neurons in his visual cortex ablaze. It took a moment for him to focus.
She was thrilled for him, they had dreamed of this moment, saved for it, held hands during the long, painful hours of operation after operation, but she was scared too, terrified in fact. What would he think of her when he first set eyes on her? Would he still thinks she was beautiful? Was she? He had fallen in love with her when he was blind, and, selfishly, she had found that beautiful because he had fallen in love with who she was, not what she looked like. Was she beautiful?
The colours and brightness stopped merging and objects came into focus for him and he looked, eyes wide open, drinking in everything. “Oh my God!” he exclaimed, “You’re hideous! You’re all covered in hair!”
She was about to start crying, when she realised. “No, silly,” she said, “you’re looking at the dog!”
So, they wanna put Mickey’s lovely little staf, Britney, down. Just cos she bit some cunt. I mean, she’s a dog, what the fuck do you expect, know what I mean? Ok, so she ‘alf tore off this fucker’s face and sunk ‘er gnashers so ‘ard into ‘is bollocks that you could’ve ‘eard ‘im screaming in Deptford. Wish I’d got it on me phone, funny as fuck, it was.
So, we go round the cop shop to sort it aht. an’ there’s this little dicksplash, Dembrow, I fink it is. ‘E’s allright though, ‘elped us shift’a load’a snuff movies last year, an’ I ain’t abaht to bubble him for this or nuffin’. I mean, you don’t fuck with a man’s trade, it ain’t respectful, know what I mean? We’re all nice ‘n’that. I ask ‘im how ‘is kids are. I know their names, their ages, wot schools they go to, wot grades they get. ‘E looks proper uneasy, know what I mean? I tell ‘im ‘ow pretty ‘is four year old Emily is.
Cunt gets the message, paperwork gets lost and sweet little Britney, ‘oo is brilliant wiv kids by the way and would kill any cunt just for looking at Mickey’s wrong, gets to live another day. You gotta ‘ave respect for life, is wot I say. Know what I mean?