All Eyes - Chapter 1

One eye open, one eye closed. That was the way Jeffrey preferred to
have it. He peered over the red hot heating element on the porcelain
white stove, licked his finger, and touched the burner. A delightful
sizzle emitted. A smile crossed his face. Jeffrey then reaches across
the stove to the counter and picks up the mason jar with the tin foil
top, holes and all, and peers, one eye opened, one eye closed, at the
tiny prisoner inside.

Growing up, Jeffrey perfected the art of catching fireflies in glass
jars, clasping his hand over the top, and watching the little insects
glow and glow and glow and fade? and die. He never spared a single one,
and wouldn't leave their side until the deed was done. In some ways, it
was an admirable feat, sticking with what you started, being there for
something in need. As the years and summers passed, Jeffrey graduated
to grasshoppers, dragonflies, rats, and so on. While they didn't have
the same aura of a firefly, they still provided that soothing calm of
watching something fade away.

So who was it to be this time? The firefly? The grasshopper? The
dragonfly? No, just a simple, basic housefly. In Jeffrey's efforts to
capture it, he had injured one of the wings, rendering the fly
immobile. That was the way Jeffrey preferred to have it. It made the
whole process flow better. After all, he wouldn't have to worry about
it buzzing away when he opened the jar to fetch it. Jeffrey reached his
hand into the jar, and with a forefinger and thumb, lifted the fly by
one wing. However, Jeffrey had not accounted for the size of the jar,
and his hand in its new and less sleek position hit the edge, causing
the fly to drop. Flustered, Jeffrey began to pace about the kitchen,
muttering words of encouragement to himself.

"Jeffrey, Jeffrey? you can do it. You're not dumb. You're not dumb.
You're smart. Remember, fried fly, fried fly."

He smiled and went to plan "B." He simply dumped the contents of the
jar onto the counter and lifted the little fly up to peer at it briefly
before the inevitable. One eye open, one eye closed, he gazed into its
thousand eyes. For a moment, he saw a glimpse of himself, reduced to a
reduction, being devoured by a swarm of bees and bears. He shook his
head to jostle the images from his eyes.

"It's all your fault!" he screamed at the little fly.

And as quickly as it had gotten deafeningly loud with his accusation,
it became deathly quiet. You could hear the fly whimper and beg for its
life. But Jeffrey did not speak fly. Chest heaving from rage, breath
overwhelming, Jeffrey composed himself and began lowering the creature
towards the red-orange burner. For a man, it was just a short time, but
for a fly, it was eternity. And after all those happy times, eating
dung, puking on its food, dodging swatters and hands, only to be
bottled in a jar, emaciated and sullen, one-winged, it all came down to
one satisfying sizzle and a small stream of smoke. It singed Jeffrey's
finger slightly, but he didn't seem to mind. Rather, he sauntered
across the floor, doing a waltz within himself, and flipped on the
radio. A ruminating voice crooned in the air, a stream of smoky haze,
which caught in Jeffrey's nostrils and made its way to his ears. The
smell of fried fly hung in the air. Jeffrey smiled, and peered down the
hallway, one eye open, one eye closed; the way he preferred to have
it.