Those Omnipresent Eyes

I can't recall when it started happening. I only know that I am tormented by them, those eyes. Usually they'd only appear to me after I'd indulged in the desires of my flesh: smoking, drinking, an assortment of promiscuous sexual behaviors, but the frequency of their visits has been increasing as of late (even to the extent of showing up before I infuse in my activities).

Once, I had engaged in a staring contest with the eyes. I sit propped in my comfy, charcoal-inspired recliner, gazing upward and sipping on a sparkling glass of Chardonnay, of which its source had ran empty. The eyes, staring toward me. Never blinking and always looking. Transfixed. There's only so much of this one can take. It was during that time that I decided to speak to the eyes for the very first time.

"Must you torment me so? Haven't I suffered enough?"

A muffled response. Something along the lines of I torn at me and sobering up. Whatever that meant.

"What's that now? Come again? I don't quite understand you."

The eyes grimaced, which is very strange indeed, considering they were just eyes.

"You speak nonsense! You need mouth. Return to me then. As for now, begone!"

Still the eyes muffled on. I vowed to retract from the staring game and decided to retire that night. I stood and stumbled clumsily, then headed toward my chamber. And that is how my days were to be carried out, confrontations with the eyes.

There was another time worth mentioning. After meeting a woman at a bar, and talking, and laughing, and drinking, and lusting, and sharing a few cigarettes, she followed me back to my apartment, and upon entering we immediately succumbed one to another: kissing, licking, embracing, sucking on face and nibbling on ear, any and all that tickled our fancies. I lie there, in bed, with her beside me, unable to sleep because of the eyes. They stared toward me from the ceiling and I returned the favor by staring back at them, although rather timidly. Despite all this, I was determined not to submit to the will of the eyes. In fact, my abominable activities were to be taken to another extreme with the manipulation of Irene.

Irene was new to me in every sense of the word. It was her first time at the firm, and she was to be assigned a few cubicles down past me. I had never once beheld or come across such unfathomable beauty. I was especially drawn to her hair, which was wonderfully long and as soot, and the light from the fixtures of the room refracted off of it, producing a most eye-pleasing effect.

She was of the pure type, as I could tell, and if I wanted to get along with her I'd have to play nice. So I did, and it was many things that won her over. She'd drop a pen and I'd pick it up while smiling from ear to ear. Lunch breaks would come and I'd pay for her meals. "Oh please, allow me," I would say. "Oh, I couldn't possibly impose," she would say. "There would be no imposition, I assure you," I'd say. Concerning work she'd remark, "Ben, am I doing this right? What do you think? Oh OK, so it's easier to do it this way?" Much respect was given unto me from my male counterparts as well, whom were flabbergasted at how I was able to work my wizardry. Me and my conniving ways indeed.

All was going smoothly, but I knew that I could not request of her, doing so I felt would mar all that I had worked for. So I bided my time and waited for her to ask of me: and so she did, and I accepting, feeling all together good, considering how I'd managed myself over the last few weeks. She sauntered away from me and I noticed a pair of eyes engraved in her back, much different from those just floating around. I called back to her promptly.

"Irene, I...I've just had an epiphany. If my recollection serves me true, I have a prior engagement to attend to that evening."

Her face, it drooped upon hearing the news.

"Oh...OK. Well umm....what about Saturday night then?"

I spotted another pair of eyes, which casually strolled right past her, staring directly at me.

"NO!"

My commotion caused the heads of my coworkers to pop out of their cubicles.

"I mean...I've come down with something. And I certainly wouldn't want to put you in any danger of contracting it."

I made an attempt at a cough, which was flimsy and didn't come off too well.

"I do apologize for this. Perhaps some other time then."

Irene thought on this for a moment and nodded rather dumbfounded.

"...OK. I...hope you feel better."

Irene strolled away with those eyes still there and I couldn't bear to watch. But...I couldn't help but to wonder if they had gotten to her as they had me.

The days, they came and went, as days often do, and my condition worsened. I had developed a most bothersome twitch that plagued me from time to time; I was always dosing off during work hours, and because of the oversleep I found myself skipping appointments with soap and water, so as not to be any later for work. As a result, my personal hygiene was suffering; my hair often remained a mess, buttons were almost always in the wrong slots and my tie awkwardly thrown together, stains from yester-week abided about my outer garments, I hadn't shaved in quite some time and the small strands on my cheeks were becoming more akin to underdeveloped whiskers than a poorly done shave. Many times I contemplated the sadness of it all. But hope did present itself unto me.

I had uncovered that the eyes held no interest in me when I wasn't dwelling on or practicing the things they disliked. Upon discovering this, I decided that the Chardonnay and cigarettes had to go. Their destinations? The trash receptacle. The sex would be no more. None for me, thank you. I was a changed man. But it did come at a price. At work, I all but had to keep to myself, so as not to be infected by the wiles of my male cohorts. And as far as the women were concerned, I couldn't possibly bring myself to look upon them, for fear that the eyes might make an unexpected return.

To my credit, I was even able to avert confrontations with the astonishingly beautiful Irene. She would peer over her cubicle from time to time, seeing if she could not spot me, but I was far more cunning than she knew. I had spoken with a male colleague beforehand and managed to exchange cubicles with him. When she was to speak with him about my whereabouts, I simply advised him to inform her I had been relocated. She looked about wailfully, and I shared her pain. Perhaps after I'd overpowered my demons, she and I would embark on a few tastefully done engagements, and I would ask her to be my wife soon thereafter.

On one of my days off the phone rang, and I was about to answer when I was hindered by a pair of eyes hovering over the receiver, prohibiting me from any further action. Well, I certainly wasn't going to disobey them, so I refrained from answering and allowed its ring to fill the apartment. This was the first time I had seen the eyes in awhile, and it dawned on me that perhaps they were protecting me from some outside force or influence.

Yes, I was beginning to feel free again, but alas, it would only last for a season...

A most horrid time I can recall started at work while I was stationed at my newfound cubicle. A very nondescript cubicle it was: its outer region bathed in baby blue, like all the others, and innards devoid of anything that would tempt me in the least, and definitely free of anything that might provoke those loathsome eyes from returning. Just the thought of them sent chills down my spine.

Well, it was during this time that the provocative wonder herself, the quintessential beauty, Irene, impeded toward me. How had she found me? I made myself busy and pretended not to notice her, knowing all too well what her presence could do to me.

"Ben? Is it really you? Martin told me you had been relocated, but I didn't know it was just to another cubicle," said Irene ecstatically.

Her sweet, angelic voice oscillated through the air to my ear lobes, beckoning after me, but I certainly wasn't going to look up toward her. No no.

"Ben," she reiterated, "is everything alright? I've been trying to contact you, but you haven't been answering your phone."

"I'll be fine," said I, still not acknowledging her in a visual sense. "I just need to be left alone for awhile."

"I don't know what's going on, but...you've been acting weird. Is there something you want to tell me?

An episode of twitching began, but I sat silent, acting as if all was well and remaining entrenched in my paper work.

"You're not on any drugs, are you," said Irene with a hint of uncertainty. "If so, that's OK. We can get you some help."

My nervous twitching increased and I turned my head toward the aisle. I was showing progress these past few days. I couldn't possibly look upon her, not now, nor here, or anywhere. To embrace her would be akin to inviting the eyes over for a weekend or two.

"Please talk with me. I want to help you. I...care for you."

With that, she placed her hand on my shoulder and I jerked back with surprising vigor. She looked at me in utter dismay, and it was then that I beheld a pair of eyes, staring at me in one of the room's corners, mounted on the wall like a surveillance camera. I shrieked and scurried off to the exit, ruffling papers and disturbing coworkers.

I walked briskly along the city streets, passing many an on comer, and reflecting on what had happened. I hadn't spotted the eyes. My guess was that they were still at the firm. But how would I explain my behavior to Irene, or to my other coworkers? I began to fear the worst, that I was to be terminated, let go, released, and that I'd never see Irene again. Never be immersed by such beauty...again. Such thoughts formed throughout my psyche.

The negativity was getting the better of me, so I tried focusing on something else. Nature perhaps. The sun glared down toward me, sort of like the eyes, and its warmth gave me a strange security; cumulus clouds marched above me, which shared the color of the cone of the eye; and a firm, cool breeze pushed against me, which caused small grains of earth to fly in my eyes. Yes, the tranquility of nature had subdued me, and I closed my eyes to become one with it all, and when I opened them...when I opened them, I saw eyes. Lots of them. They were everywhere, swarming about like little, white-winged butterflies with dots on their backs and trailing after on comers. I swivelled about to see if I could spot my parasitic little friend.

Nothing.

I repeated my actions and still the same. I endeavored once more and this time I came pupil to pupil with a big, bulging pair of eyes, much bigger than those I had come accustomed to. This was all just too much for me, and I ran away in horror.

"Why? Why?! Why, why, why, why, why, why, why?!" I kept asking myself.

People watched as I careened past them, and some even got in their little quips at my expense, but I cared not. I was concerned of only one thing: ridding myself of those eyes.

I entered my apartment, panting and out of breath, and immediately secured the locks on the door. With my back against the door, I slid to the floor and placed my face in my hands, reflecting on the day that was. My employment was most definitely over. I'd have to scrimmage for a new job in the morning, and Irene's enrapturing beauty I was to behold no more. I neglected to think about it all, but I couldn't help but to. These were the issues at hand, and I had to face them. I pondered awhile and decided I'd take an early retirement for the day. I removed my face from my hands and was taken aghast. The eyes, here, they dwelled here, here and everywhere! There were eyes populating the monitor of the television, eyes camped around and about the windows and the curtains, there were even eyes engraved in the door of which I was resting! I leaped to my feet and looked about in horror. And it was then that I finally decided that this could go on no longer, it would be either me or the eyes.

I hastened toward my eye-cluttered closet, fumbled around in it a bit, extracted a baseball bat, and bashed at the first pair of eyes I saw. It dispelled. The joy was immense, and I could hardly restrain myself. I had found a way to defeat them!

"Did you see that, you bothersome little devils," said I to the eyes. "I will win yet!"

The eyes, they blinked collectively. This was the only time they'd ever done so, and it occurred to me that they were frightened.

I went through the apartment in a tirade, sparing no eye in sight. The eyes clustered along the glass table were to be shattered by the impact of my swing. Eyes riddled along the walls evaporated as I made contact, leaving numerous cracks and indentations in the walls. The eyes engraved in the television monitor looked up scarcely at me as I pulled back to strike, sending them into oblivion. There was a succession of beats against the door, people informing me to cease that racket, but I couldn't do so, as there were still eyes left to be dealt with.

And when the last eye had vanished from sight, I stood amongst the rubble as the victor. Panting. Loud beats emanated from the door and I proceeded to answer. It was the men in blue.

"Is there something I can help you with officers?"

They were very apprehensive toward me, the officers were. They entered the apartment, looking to and fro, questioning me. I told them about the eyes, and how they had tormented me so, and how I had endeavored to rid myself of them. They requested that I come along with them, but I declined, stating that the eyes were no more. They insisted, and I resisted still, with my baseball bat. They then resorted to force of their own, brandishing batons, and I, still resisting, was escorted to their squad car.

And so here I am. I don't open my eyes that much anymore. I don't want to, because if I do I'll see them, and since they took my baseball bat away I can't get rid of them. But on occasion, I do have to open them, to eat. The nice men in white bring me a variety of veggie’s and meats and I just sit here in this corner, eating, watching the eyes trot about behind them. If only they knew as I knew.