Storyline continued from Henchman's Tag...
So, while I was out and about bagging and tagging and other such things, I ran into a yellow henchman. It seems henchman are everywhere these days. They're all envious of me, middle management. It's the far-reaching dream of a henchman to one day ascend the career ladder and be put in charge of his own team of mindless henchman.
"Isn't that right, Haitian?"
"Hey, what's this?" I asked and picked up an odd little sphere dropped by the fleeing Henchman.
"He seemed to have dropped his marble," The Haitian replied.
I handed the marble to The Haitian while I observed my surroundings. The Henchman was long out of sight; there would be no returning the dropped object.
Then, I began to notice the impoverished state of this particular part of town. Shacks were everywhere, with the exception of one grand skyscraper in the middle. Before I could begin to ponder the strange contrast, I heard the thunderous sound of a an approaching mob.
"Get him!" someone yelled. "He's got all the loot!"
I drew my gun, ready to defend myself and, if I had to, The Haitian as well. But the mob circumvented us. They continued down the path after the strange yellow henchman.
"Looting? Wide income disparity? Angry mobs? Are we in Brazil again?" I asked The Haitian. I could have sworn our mission had us placed somewhere in Tennessee.
"I do not believe so," he replied. Handing back the marble.
He was right. We weren't in Brazil. There were way too many fat people in that slow-moving mob. We were still in America.
After a successful bagging and tagging of our target, I returned home, I placed the marble in my desk drawer, and there I forgot about it for months....
"Um, Dad?" a girlish voice called from the living room. "There's a floating eyeball talking to me!"
I ran in quickly, expecting Henry Gail, a former target of mine who had the power of having really big eyes (at least we think it was a power, maybe it was just genetics. But hey, that's why we capture 'em, right? To find out these things?)
But it was no Henry Gail.
"Shoot it, Dad!" a lanky boy screamed at me.
"Who are you?"
The eye began to speak.
"Not you," I said, "this little punk kid in my house. You can't just come in here bringing your big ol' eyeballs, probably getting cytoplasm-like goo all over my furniture."
"Dad, it's me, Lyle!" he replied.
"Oh, yeah, sorry...uh...you got a haircut, right?"
"Um, yeah, I don't have time for this dysfunctional family stuff," the eye spoke. "I'm a very busy eye."
"Well, what is it you want?" I asked the optical organ.
"I am a genie. You can have two wishes. Make 'em quick, though. You've had me in that drawer since Christmas. I'd like to get out of this place, maybe meet a nice girl eye or something."
"Wow, I get two wishes!" Lyle cried out.
"You mean you get to watch me make two wishes," I corrected him with a pat on the head. "Let's see. First....I want a raise at The Company."
"How much of a raise?" the eye asked to clarify.
"Wish for a Cadillac, Dad! I'm so tired of Nissans," the kid pouted.
"Don't distract me, Kyle. I'm thinking." I wrinkled my brow hard as I considered my final wish. "I've got it! I wish for an action figure to be made after me. How cool is that, right?"
"Done!" the eye replied. "Now, can you pass me on to someone else please?"
I put the eye back in my desk drawer and went to my local toy store. "Check it out! It's me!"
The eye genie is still in my desk drawer waiting for Mr. Muggles, Lyle, or Claire to find it....