THE WARM BUZZ OF
by special guest writer, Slacker Lacker
Some people have phobias, others
have fears. Me, I'm not so much as afraid of bees, as I'm not too thrilled by
the thought of getting stung by them. So it stands that films like "The Swarm",
Will Shatner's "Kingdom of the Bees", and "The Bees That Came Out of Texan
Ladies Hives And Ate People", have a slightly more than slight affect upon my
psyche. I'll elaborate. Bees hate me.
Throughout my life, I've had the misfortune of being (get it?) the main child on
the block to get attacked by winged beasties. I can only thank the Lord above
that I'm not allergic.
BEESTALGIA INCIDENT #1
While playing with my sweet (and completely free)
Ronald McDonald flyer (you remember the flyers, a small cardboard picture of
Ronald McDonald that flew if you threw it hard enough), an overthrow made my
flyer just inch, nay centimeter, its clown-like nose underneath the first step
of the porch at my Aunt's house. The little plane wasn't even shadowed by the
stair. Knowing full well that there was a pack of bees living underneath, I
carefully and reverently inched (nay centimetered) towards the step, and with
utmost care and respect, snagged Ronald's smilling body and stepped back. And
then, the attack came. Thousands of bees, not content with the fact that I
wasn't near their precious home any longer, felt it necessary to sacrifice their
small little lives to teach me a lesson. "How dare you accidentally that scary
clown into our domain", seemed to buzz in my ears as the pain skyrocketed itself
through my tiny body. I dropped Ron and ran, symbolically crushing him as I ran
into the house to cry. Though I never truly gave up my McDonald's addiction, I
never spoke to Ronald again....the jammy goit.
Clash of the Titans was one of my favorite movies as a child and I used to
re-enact scenes with my plastic fantasy sword (complete w/scabbard and removable
hilt). After dominating my sister in a series of stunning victories, a bee
meandered its way into the backyard. Not wanting to get stung (this was years
after the Ronald incident), I told my sister to freeze, because as we all know,
bees don't attack you unless you're threatening them (or running). So there we
stand, comically frozen in mid-fight, and what does our winged friend decide to
do? He moseys right on up to my forehead, lands, and stings, blinding me with
pain, and causing me to drop my sword. Granted, I ran (though I couldn't bear to
step on my sword, our relationship was founded on more than just faux burger
meat), cursing the day that I upset the bee gods. And even though I was a little
older, it still hurt...alot....
Another porch incident. This time,
though, it's hornets, not bees. And I did nothing but go outside. Out into the
sunny light of a blaring Texas summer in my grandmother's backyard. Blammo!
Hornets all over the place, eating my flesh and destroying my now insect hating
soul. The best part about hornets is that they don't die after they sting, thus
allowing their stingers to stab, stab and stab again, like some winged Norman
Bates. So, like the detective, I fell, the hornets giving chase. I get up, run
inside, and cry some more, vowing to destroy all stinging insects with a rocket
to the sun. My father and grandmother ask what happened and then begin to apply
ice and baking soda to all 1,239,394 of my stings. After that, I worry about
frostbite from the ice. My grandmother laughs. The end.
There are other incidents that
involved bees, and I'm sure at least one of them didn't entail my immediate
pain. I just don't understand why vegans feel it necessary to protect the
striped bees. They're gonna die stabbing me in the eye anyway, so what if a few
die to make tasty delicious honey for me and my bear friends. Mmm...honey. So
even though they played some sort of substantial role in my life, I still want
all bees to die. Horribly. With smaller bees stinging them over, and over and
over...like Macaulay Culkin in that movie with Dan Akroyd! But keep pollinating
and making honey...Thanks.
Slacker has written for such fine
websites as THEREDWIRE, THEBLUEWIRE, and
Once, my father was eating a
sandwich during a family picnic, and a hornet flew between the bread. He
bit on it and was stung repeatedly inside his mouth, making the lower half of
his jaw resemble The Elephant Man.
Got a bee story of your own?
SHARE IT HERE at the retroCRUSH Message Boards!