A/N: This is another short one. What would happen if Sands couldn't bear
the idea of blindness?
***
It's not as if you have any choice. What the fuck else is there to do? You could always walk around a bit and hope to be hit by something heavy and moving, hopefully not a bull mind you. Na, instead you are going to sit in the dust, baking slowly in the heat and gagging for a freaking drink. It's bad that you don't have a fucking clue where you are. No eyes, remember? Oh, my. Vampire mosquitoes are going to eat your rotting ass soon and then where will you be? Oh yeah, still sitting in the dirt with you thumb up your ass because you're too far gone to do anything but sit there in sheer misery. Wait wait wait! Here's the smallest violin playing the world's saddest song just for you. Sheldon fucking Sands, ex-CIA agent with no freaking eyes. No eyes! Who does that? Where are they now? Are they still lying in a puddle in your sockets? Maybe they've been eaten from your head from the various insects biting you in various places. No eyes, no job, no money. What's the fucking point of it? You pull the gun out of your belt clumsily and put the bastard in your mouth. Its cold, greasy and it tastes of godknowswhat. You only learned one new Spanish phrase from that god damn Mariachi whilst you spent time with him. Ay te huatcho.
See ya.
***
It's not as if you have any choice. What the fuck else is there to do? You could always walk around a bit and hope to be hit by something heavy and moving, hopefully not a bull mind you. Na, instead you are going to sit in the dust, baking slowly in the heat and gagging for a freaking drink. It's bad that you don't have a fucking clue where you are. No eyes, remember? Oh, my. Vampire mosquitoes are going to eat your rotting ass soon and then where will you be? Oh yeah, still sitting in the dirt with you thumb up your ass because you're too far gone to do anything but sit there in sheer misery. Wait wait wait! Here's the smallest violin playing the world's saddest song just for you. Sheldon fucking Sands, ex-CIA agent with no freaking eyes. No eyes! Who does that? Where are they now? Are they still lying in a puddle in your sockets? Maybe they've been eaten from your head from the various insects biting you in various places. No eyes, no job, no money. What's the fucking point of it? You pull the gun out of your belt clumsily and put the bastard in your mouth. Its cold, greasy and it tastes of godknowswhat. You only learned one new Spanish phrase from that god damn Mariachi whilst you spent time with him. Ay te huatcho.
See ya.