From the horrific yet true files of Mr. Crunchy's childhood, comes this nightmare. Fireflies light up and so, young Mr. Crunchy thought, a jar full of them would provide the light needed for clandestine reading after bedtime. One small Mason jar and two evenings of collecting later and the project was done. Gentle caretaker that he was, Mr. Crunchy remembers poking small holes into the lid so the fireflies, that were packed nearly to the brim, could breathe. The overall illumination effect was less than spectacular and the jar was quickly forgotten until a unique stench alerted his Depression-Era, rural New York-born Mom. A shout-filled lecture was followed by a slightly more controlled beating, which ensured young Mr. Crunchy would never forget the lesson of the fireflies.