all eyes on me (ocean sightseeing)

The eyes are all looking at me. Seventeen pairs of blue eyes, three pairs of brown, and a single hazel eye with a birthmark that reminds me of an ex-girlfriend, survived the crash with me. I jumped aboard their rubber raft a few minutes after fighting my way up to the ocean surface, and they've been my only company since our courier flight went down. I want to know who carefully placed twenty pairs of disembodied eyes that had been pegged for delivery to a Taiwanese orphanage on this raft, but at the same time I really don't.

Maybe the hazel eye arranged everything on its own. Or perhaps the livers en route to Bangkok set them afloat, the eyes being the "women and children" of the body's organic hierarchy, and the plane sank before the livers could join them. Poor, noble livers.

I could use a drink. Or something to eat. I think I saw a McDonald's float by on an island of seaweed a few hours ago, but the mermaids working the drive thru wouldn't take my order, and I don't know whether they were being snooty, or if they I'd just imagined them. I don't know which would be worse.

I'm so hungry. So hungry. I tried eat my only flare a few minutes ago, but I lost parts of three teeth trying to bite through its hard, plastic casing. I need something softer.

I had a friend on the plane paying his way through optometry school by doing the courier trips with me. He once told me that an eye is pretty much just a sac of jello with a cord.

I'm so hungry...

There are seventeen pairs of blue eyes and three pairs of brown eyes looking at me. The hazel one tasted like almonds.