...Frank stood slowly to his feet. Bright colors intermixed with beeps and thrumming vibrations swirled through his head. The sensory perceptions were overwhelming, Frank found himself sitting back down.
..."What have you done to me Art? I'm half blind, why can't the room hold still?" he cried in anguish to his friend.
...Art was surveying his piece of equipment. An intent look showed the many little cogs and wheels of his inner mind; his thought process was like an open book all could read. Art frowned and jiggled the helmet in his left hand a little.
..."It seems there was a slight miscalculation in my syllogism - nothing serious though." Art looked up and smiled. "Here, let me try to reconfigure this thing, I think I know what went wrong."
..."Know what went wrong! I know exactly what's wrong! You've lost your mind, that's what's wrong! As soon as I get my head cleared I'm out of here." Frank was spluttering angrily. A fierce and unusual emotion was welling up inside him, his throat constricted with the force of it. "Oh, my heads falling apart - its going to pieces Art!"
...Art whipped his belt off his waist and cinched it around Frank's head.
..."There buddy- this ought to keep you together until I figure this out" he said and patted Frank's noggin. "Here's what the problem is" he went on " My syllogism is based on conditional statements and you didn't meet one of the conditions."
..."Which one?" Frank spat through clenched teeth.
..."If you are addicted to TV you might as well be dead" Art replied. "Obviously you don't share my opinion on this topic, you would not rather be dead and so the machine had some minor malfunctions"...
..."How minor?"
..."Oh, you won't be able to look at a TV without going into convulsions for at least two months. Like I said, nothing serious."
..."Are you kidding!" Frank exploded. "This is very serious, what am I supposed to do? Never go home again? Live on the streets for two months? I have walls lined with TVs - one for each of my favorite shows."
..."Here's what we'll do Frank. I'll go home with you and remove all the TVs before you come into the house - I'll even stay the night in the eventuality that you don't recover your vision by then! What do you think?" Art was quite pleased with himself.
..."I think you're a weasel Art - come to my house - are you kidding!" Frank said.
..."Good, then it's all settled! Lets go!" Art cried brightly. He sprang to his feet and grabbed his coat.
..."You didn't bring a coat earlier did you Frank?" he asked.
..." No, how could I? You didn't leave me time to grab anything." Frank answered.
..."Well you can borrow one of mine" Art continued. Frank felt a heavy jacket thrust over his head before he was jerked to his feet by Arts enthusiastic prodding. Meekly he allowed himself to be led outside and deposited in the car. Art hopped into the drivers seat and revved up the engine.
...Oh no, not Arts driving again Frank thought. Maybe it won't be so bad since I can't see past the bright lights.
...Wrongo - it was worse. Frank clutched his seatbelt as Art manuevered through midnight traffic. Halfway through the ride his eyesight returned, just in time to wittness a narrow escape from death as Art carreened around a sharp corner and slammed on the brakes; much to the consternation of the drivers behind him.
..."What was that for?" Frank yelped. "You should have kept going!"
..."Always come to a full second stop when you see a stop sign" Art explained. "If you keep the law you'll never get in trouble."
..."What kind of trouble?" Frank yelled in exasperation as Art lurched forward again. " You don't call a hospital trip trouble?"
..."Nope, its the law I'm worried about" Art replied swerving through a yellow light in the nick of time.
..."Oh yeah, you're one to talk. If you're so worried about the law then why all this undercover illegal blogeologing huh?"
...Art sighed. "You just don't get it Frank. That's why I can't afford these minor brush ins with the government. I've got to keep a low profile."
..."You're doing a great job too!" Frank squealed sarcastically as Art came to an abrupt stop in front of Franks apartment complex.
..."Now what?" Art asked.
..."I'm on the third floor, apartment 45 C." Frank said. He started to open his door.
..."Wait a second, I'm going in first - remember?" Art said leaping out and closing Franks door.
..."I need to give you the key Art!" Frank growled through the windowpane.
..."Okay, thanks, see you in a few!" Art said and sprinted for the building with all his usual energy.
..."No, wait a second Art!" Frank said as a terrible thought struck him. "What are you going to do with the TVs? Why don't you just put them in the closet, Okay?" he shouted after his friend.
...Art had already disappeared up the stairs. Frank got out and started after him. Why couldn't he have taken the elevator? Art had got a good start and Frank could see the stars coming back as he climbed the staircase. Several times he stopped to take a breath. I should have just taken the elevator he thought.
...At the top he raced towards his apartment and burst in. Art was looking out the window at something, there wasn't a TV in sight.
..."Where are they?" Frank demanded.
..."Down there" Art replied.
..."No!" Frank screamed lunging towards the window. Intermingled with the green grass below were wires and thousands of tiny glass shards.
..."Why not - you'll never need them again" Art said.
...Frank turned to him. Art saw the expression on his face and backed up a few paces.
..."Well, I guess I'll see you at work tomorrow Frank. Sleep tight, don't let the bedbugs bite!" he said and darted out of the room. Frank heard his car engine start and roar down the street...
