They were sitting on the rack; as inconspicuous as a pair of mirrored sheen lenses held together by thinly paired metal frames can possibly be. Instantly, as I gazed into my reflection staring back at me, I vaguely recalled the tale of Narrcissus. It couldn't do any harm to try them on, I thought. Donning the accessory, I found a conveniently placed mirror- just perfect for my height and witnessed the sight which would warp the notions I steadfastedly held for years- like a caged curmudgeon obstinate about the 'old days'. I felt like a Tom Cruise in his prime, without the gay innuendo, or the scattered-brain theories of a Scientologist disciple. Wearing the glasses made me feel like a hero, like someone with nary a thought about what could go wrong, but only what could go right. If confidence and kickasseery came in the form of an accessory, this instrument was the prototype- nay- the paradigm, from which all of it was wrought. With the stride of a man who had seen all and conquered all, with the walk of a man who knew the walk and did the talk, I made my way to the register, prize still equipped. Little did I realize, what monster I had unleashed within my psyche. And oh how the world will pay for it. Oh will it pay for it...
In case things weren't clear. I succumbed and bought a pair of aviators. And man do I rock it!
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