“What do you take me for?” he retorts, pulling the rope towards him, sniffing the Captain’s now invisible face. The Captain head butts him knowingly and with great accuracy, just where the ugly spinner’s forehead begins, above the edge of what should be a nose but looks more like some sort of breathing apparatus and says:
“Can’t you see where you’re going or did you do this on purpose?”
The Commander’s eyebrows, wiry, creased in the middle, form a deep frown of pain, discontent and confusion on his forehead.
“I’m good with vision,” Captain Traumatic insists, “I can help you see again.”
“I can see.”
“You need better, improved and clearer vision.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
“Go on, but remember: you’re no more than a damned fucking lunatic!”
“Your wired hair is getting in the way, it gives you headaches and you can no longer see where you’re headed: both, in direction and in goal.
“It’s also too thick. You can’t see me clearly at all. It blinds you and your leader enjoys the whole lot of you having trouble seeing. That way, she can deceive and manipulate you. It wasn’t always like this but as she gathered in strength and in recruits, catching many of you unaware, she ensured you couldn’t see where your next step might lead so that freedom could never be gained by any of you, ever again.”
“What do you know about freedom?”
“Like I said,” the Captain continues, “it’s to do with what one sees.”
To be continued…©