Optic Blasts are not the Same as Heat Vision

First of all, I want to warn my Mom: Mom, if you're reading this, you may want to just skip this post. There's no pictures of Tori, and it's pretty nerdy even by my standards.

Since the last two posts worked out so well I thought I'd continue allowing our friends to choose my blog topics. This weeks requests comes from Kevin V.:

As you can see, at first I thought he meant lazy eyes, which like any red-blooded child-of-the-Western-United-States-married-to-a-Texan I associate with the classic film "An American Tail: Feivel Goes West".

I'm planning on doing a whole post about Don Bluth animated films at some point, but for now I just want to point out how great it is even as a child I was taught to love and trust Jimmy Stewart to defend us from evildoers, and John Cleese as the nefarious Cat R. Waul ranks right up there with Mr. Potter from It's a Wonderful Life, the corrupt congressmen from Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, or even Liberty Valance (I hope you know which Jimmy Stewart movie he's from) in terms of being a jerk who we love seeing Jimmy Stewart beat down. (Offscreen: Wait, you mean John Wayne, Tiger the Cat, and the forces of democracy and a free market economy took those guys down? Then what did Jimmy Stewart do? Moral Leadership!? That's not a beatdown! No I'm not going to change what I said on the blog!  What do you mean the Stewart Family Estate is threatening legal action? All right I'll fix it... grumble grumble).

I've been informed by our legal staff that my previous statements were incorrect. Jimmy Stewart did not beat down any of those people, but instead inspired them by standing up for what's right and providing a blistering Care Bear Stare moral leadership. Also, the Han Solo family estate asked that I display the following image:

Getting back to today's topic, it turns out Kevin meant "laser eyes", not "lazy eyes." On receiving this clarification I became even more on-board with the idea:

Actually, there will probably be several comic-book-related entries in the future. For now, we'll focus on what my day would be like if I woke up and discovered I had laser eyes like Cyclops from the X-Men:

6:30am: The alarm goes off. Jessica shakes me lightly on the shoulder to wake me up. For some reason I'm wearing one of those frilly eye covers that people in old-timey movies wear to sleep in. Even more embarrassingly, it looks like this:

Being the morning person that I am, I take it off my to rub the sleep out of my eyes. The lasers barely miss Jessica, bouncing off the mirror on our bedroom door before adding a new window to our bedroom.

6:45am: having dressed and proverbially powdered my nose, I now turn to the task of shaving. Mistaking my laser eyes for heat vision, I decide to make the best of my new-found destructive powers and shave by looking at myself in the mirror. Instead of burning away the stubble the optic blast knocks me down. Now I'm tired and have a headache.

7:15am: After shaving the conventional way and polishing off my Honey Nut Cheerios, I decide not to risk punching a hole in my computer monitor at work and call in sick. I dig out some sunglasses and paint them with a loose coat of Jessica's red nail polish. Somehow this makes it so I can see through them without blasting anything with my laser eyes. I have Jessica dress Tori and we head to the doctor's office to try and figure things out.

7:25am: As we're getting out of the car at the doctor's office we're confronted by a paraplegic Patrick Stewart look-alike, who offers me a job as a teacher at a school for lazy kids gifted youngsters in New York. I'm hesitant to accept his offer until his surly Canadian bodyguard starts cracking his knuckles and six knives shoot out of his hands.

8am: For some reason there's a jet parked behind the doctor's office. We get in with the mysterious bald guy, who explains that they've been looking for a guy with laser eyes ever since their previous laser-eyed teacher was portrayed as a doofus in a motion picture trilogy and killed by his schizophrenic wife in the third movie, which was critically panned.

8:30am: As we're flying across the country the Canadian notices Jessica's red hair and green blouse and starts asking creepy questions about whether she's ever been to Phoenix. I stare at him pretty hard and tragically blast him out the side of the plane. When I apologize to the bald wheelchair guy he shrugs, looks out the window, and proclaims that "Logan will be fine." I'm unsure whether he means the Canadian or the northern Utah city of the same name which he landed on.

10:15am: After finally convincing me to call him "Professor X", the bald guy starts insisting he's psychic. I'm skeptical at best since the closest he comes to reading my mind is responding to my unvoiced criticism that Shawn Spencer from Psych does more productive things with his "powers".

10:45am: I've now been introduced to the rest of the faculty, who seem strangely ethnically balanced, like the cast of an early 90s cartoon. There's even a memorial in a corner for a dead Native American with the totally plausible and not-stolen-from-Pontiac name of Thunderbird, though I'm told he was an offensive hodgepodge of stereotypes and died after one issue. When I ask what they mean by "issue" the white-haired African lady stutters a bit before saying "I mean he had a blood issue."

11:45am: Lunch is catered by Cafe Rio, and I'm feeling much better about the situation.

12:30pm: I'm walking off my lunch when....

Jessica: When what? What happens next? 
Me: I'm trying to build dramatic tension. I've already bored most of our readers with an extra long post and almost certainly alienated my poor mother, so I thought I'd call it good for now and take your advice to turn this into a two part post.
Jessica: I'm telling you, if the guy who wrote the Percy Jackson books can get away with a gratuitous cliffhanger then you can too.

Tune in next time for the thrilling conclusion: same laser-eyes time, same laser-eyes URL!