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| CONFESSIONS OF A BEE GIRL |
| BY LYSKA. no stealing, write your own. Copyrite 2002 |
| BEE GIRL When I was three I was stung for the first time. He was at a movie, no, I was watching the TV. No, it was at the family picnic. Yes, the bee was by my aunt Julie, and the way I was sitting made it very angry. It flew faster than I could even see it. I knew it was there because of the buzzing. I might have been buzzing too, but nobody had the ears for it. The bee stung me in my � in my arm, no, the bee stung me in my eye, and my hair fell out. Aunt Julie and my stepfather didn�t believe in the bee because, they couldn�t hear the buzzing. So, from then on I was stupid and sick. When I was 15, the same bee, or a direct descendent from the first, followed me home from the store, no, it followed me from my home town, no, it absolutely followed me from middle school. I heard the buzzing, and turned around. This bee was larger somehow this time, hairier � more eyes, but with the exact same buzz. How can two bees buzz the same? It asked me for something, my books or two dollars, I don�t remember. I couldn�t say yes or no. I didn�t have two dollars, but the bee was angry with the way I was walking. I looked at the stinger and covered the eye that had been throbbing for the pas 12 years. The eye that couldn�t see was now burning a hole through my head. I was blind. I can�t remember anything. I can�t understah-hand you! I said to the bee. The bee said nothing, it didn�t even buzz now. The buzz had just been a warning. It had more arms and legs than I did. It held me down drooled honey into my sore I. I was screaming for aunt Julie again. It stung my sore eye over and over. My legs and my back. It looked at my stomach and started to buzz again. I said, Bee, I don�t understa-hand you. I don�t under-stahand. The bee�s stinger impaled me right into my guts. I screamed, and his stinger broke off. It is still throbbing inside my stomach today. It�s venom gives me hives. The bee began to flap it�s wings wildly. He fell to ground, and I was wounded, Blind eye and all but I stomped him. I squished his guts with my hands, no, With my feet, no, I picked up a big stick, and beat The pollen out of that sick drone bastard. It was then it came back. All of it. I under-stahand! I screamed to the dying bee. I know what happened before! The bee tried to buzz, But I swung the branch around and popped his Head off like a champagne cork. HAH! I understa-hand! Bathing in the bee�s green blood. Julie had been there! She was, wasn�t she BEE? I SAID BEE! My Aunt Julie was there. She had to have heard YOU. Aunt Julie has always had ears for it. The buzzing was like a drum-roll. I remember now, the buzzing was like a drum-roll because my stepfather was making the buzzing sound with his lips. She did hear your BUZZUZZING, busy bee! I remember! Then I stuck my hands inside his abdomen And started yanking out his bee guts. She was my friend. She held me down, so it wouldn�t get her. I was being stung by the bee that made me stupid and sick. While Julie cried and watched. She pulled at my hair while the big bee stung me over and over. My legs flew like confetti and the venom sunk to my gut. There were handcuffs or poison. The second bee didn�t need anyone�s help. He wanted to remind me of the picnic, the sickness, my hair falling out. He wanted to take my hair home. It was the hive that called it, so I�ve been told. I�ve been told more than I remember, But I remember something. I was alone the second time I was stung. The bee chased me into the alley. I was wearing clothing the color of flowers. Dad says that�s why the bees sting. Julie didn�t help me clean up that time. I heard she took a wrong turn and was stung to death. Serves her right, she pulled my hair the first time. Right now� I am the queen bee now. I am the only hope. Far cry from family picnics, yeah. Still stupid and sick, Like the first time, But I buzz the loudest. The loudest buzz. |
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