The Case of the Missing Glasses

Steve stood in the arch of the doorway talking to his friend Marco, as he had been doing for most of the party.  It was getting late; most of the guests had started trickling out and Steve straightened himself up, deciding to do the same.  Steve was a talent agent in New York, and the party was hosted by one of his clients.  He found this man talking vigorously to a young couple about mordents in the piano works of Bach and begged his goodbyes.  Steve headed over towards Marco again, unconsciously reaching for his glasses.  Not finding them, he asked Marco if he had seen the glasses, and when Marco hadn’t, Steve began to search the apartment, slowly at first, and then more frantically.

The problem was, Steve was almost blind without his glasses.  He took them off to eat and drink and talk to people at parties, but for the purposes of looking at things more than a few feet away, he desperately needed those glasses.  And the glasses were very expensive.  Designer frames, lenses hand crafted in Germany, and they had been Steve’s only real splurge that year, as he was generally very frugal.

As more and more guests left the party, Steve and Marco were left with the host, still searching almost an hour later.  Finally, they gave up and Steve left the party dejected, and stumbled home through cloudy streets past foggy people, trying to see where he was going.  For three days Steve suffered through life with no glasses, before finally deciding to get a new pair.

Ten days later, Steve’s client gave him a call with wonderful news.  The glasses had been found!  I wonder where they were, Steve thought to himself.  Fallen between some boxes or behind a shelf?  No, one of the party guests had called up and said that she had found them among her husband’s things and wanted to return them.  And her husband?  Why, it was none other than Steve’s arch-enemy, Flaming Douche Rocket!  FDR was also a talent agent in town, but the sleaziest, slimiest, jerk of a guy, and he had always had it out for Steve.  Whenever Steve would turn down a potential client, FDR would scoop them up, and there was no love lost between them.

Suddenly, it all came back to Steve.  He had gone over to the drink table to get a drink, and found FDR hanging around the liquor, where he had been camping for most of the evening.  Steve must have put his glasses down in order to get a drink, and then, why, it was crazy to even think this, but FDR had stolen his glasses!  And now, what, his wife had found them, probably wondered where he had gotten them, and was now returning them?  Steve was furious.

It was several days before Steve got the glasses back.  FDR’s wife Eleanor showed up one morning, unannounced at the front desk of Steve’s building.  She buzzed up to the 12th floor and told Steve to come down and get his glasses.  It was at this point that Steve lost it.  “Are you kidding me?!  You want me to come down there?!  I don’t think so!”  Steve refused to make the trip downstairs, so Eleanor left the glasses with the man at the desk, no case, no note, nothing, and went on her way.  The rudeness of these people left Steve boiling over in his apartment, and the cherry on top was when he finally went to get the glasses, he found that his new ones helped him see better anyway, because he apparently needed a stronger prescription now.  So he stuck with the new glasses and left the glasses upstairs for good.

This is a true story.  The names have been changed to protect the guilty.  Don’t steal people’s glasses.  It’s not cool.  This has been a public service announcement from Tenor Dad.

Posted in Glasses, Prose.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.