I am Mr. Moon.
You may think me the most unfortunate of this production cycle, but you'd be wrong. I am well taken care of by the Foundation, who look after my needs when I am faced and see to it that I am left alone when my true sight returns. As it has now.
My eyes are now in the craters, keener than any man's. I peer down to where my face drifts over. I will find Mr. Redd, for where can he hide from the moon?
There I see a man running through alleyways from thugs with knives. He is not Mr. Redd. My attention turns elsewhere. I see a parade, and the one who leads it looks to be a sister of mine. But Ms. Charm is not Mr. Redd. There is a man leaping from a building. Though I wish it were otherwise, he is not Mr. Redd. There is a businessman. He is not Mr. Redd. There is a baby. It is not Mr. Redd. There is an elephant. It is not Mr. Redd. There is a a man. There is a man. There is a woman. There is a bench. There is a woman. There is a man. There is there is there is there is there is there is
I do not see Mr. Redd.
My time is up soon. Already an eye has migrated back to my face of flesh. I leave it closed, but my sight is still diminished. I can search no more for now. No matter. The moon will remain. I am patient.