Wednesday, September 26, 2007


This bee has followed me since childhood.

I know what you’re thinking. That’s impossible, right? A bee’s life expectancy is, what? A year, maybe? Less than that? See, I don’t know, but as I lay here dying, I’m sure that’s the bee from my childhood.

It started at my 10th birthday party. A big, pool party with all of my friends. We’re eating cake in our swim trunks, I start opening presents and this one, little, baby bee is circling the entire time. One kid bats it towards the next kid and eventually it gets my scent. It won’t let me alone. On my fucking birthday! It chases me to the point of having to jump into the pool to get it off me. I have a clear memory of looking up from underwater, though my goggles, as the bee hovers over me.

Next birthday at the park, there he is again. A little bigger, a little more ornery. Throughout the years, my mother purposefully celebrated my birthdays at indoor family fun centers.

My first date with Teffany Stover got ruined because of this bee. Here I go for second base and it whizzes into the car window, freaking her out in the process. Mood killed.

I eventually married Teffany and we have no wedding pictures because of the constant torment this bee was to us, the wedding party, even the wedding photographer.

My son wanted a pool party for his 7th birthday and I was the dick who forbade it.

Today, one of the happiest days of my life, was completely crushed. While moving my son into his college dorm room, the bee watched from a nearby oak tree. This was the day the bee decided that he’d had enough.

I’d just hugged my son good-bye and as I’m walking back to the car, the bee stings me. I slap at it, but the damage is done. I feel my neck swell up and my throat close. I slump to the ground and before my eyes roll back in my head, I glance over and there he is. This little bee is convulsing on the sidewalk right there along with me.

You won, you little bastard. You won. I guess the upside is that you’ll die with me.






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