Monday 28 May 2012

Shit Faced on Honey Mead

I found a bee in the garage today. That isn’t an earth shattering occurrence by any stretch of the imagination. He could have come in because it was pretty cool and he needed to warm up. I believe that bees get warm by getting up close and personal with all of the other bees in the hive and I guess while you are in that crowd you might as well try to get close to the queen. Everyone likes a brush with royalty, bees do and even people do.

I will often leave the “man” door open while I fetch and carry things to and from the garage, and even though it is a “man” door I suppose an illiterate bee might just find his way through it. I think all bees are illiterate, but if so then why do we have spelling bees? The rest of the garage is as far from being hermetically sealed as a building could be and still be standing. If I wanted to commit suicide by running the car in the garage, I would need to spend a day or two making sure that it was air tight. I can’t think of anything more depressing than trying to commit suicide from carbon monoxide poisoning and just be sitting in the driver’s seat until the car ran out of gas. You would be going through all of the pockets looking for something to read, finally settling on the car manual. It would be a double piss off; because you would finally learn how to set the clock and that your side mirrors had defrosters.

That actually happened to me about two years ago, not the suicide part, but the mirror defroster thing. I would notice a little light every now and then, but of course it would be at night and too dark to figure out what it was about. During the day I would forget all about the little light until the next time it would show up. I can’t remember why I was reading the manual, probably waiting for Louise while she was shopping, but there it was, the little light and the button that would turn it on. I have been waiting to use it for the last two winters, but since I park in the garage and rarely leave it outside for more than an hour, I haven’t had any luck.

That doesn’t matter, I am talking about bees. Whenever I do hear bees in the garage, I try to trap them in a jar and then toss their asses out the door. It usually takes me about ten minutes to find an appropriate jar and then I spend another ten minutes seeing if I can get the jar around the bee without him stinging me. You would think that if I were smart, I would keep a special “bee” jar somewhere in the garage. Half the time I get frustrated and end up squishing the poor thing. When that happens, I don’t catch-n-release; I toss him in the garbage can and say a few words over the can to help him on his way to bee heaven. Stuff like “All the flowers liked him.” or “A honey of a guy.” but I really didn’t know him and I’m not sure that the guy who kills you should say the eulogy.

Today’s bee was a completely different story. This bee wasn’t buzzing at the window trying to get out, he was staggering along the workbench and eventually he fell over the edge. I don’t think he was hurt, because he kept staggering shortly after he fell. I think he was either drunk or stoned! I bet if I had looked closely I would have found a bunch of empties on the workbench and a few piles of puke here and there. I suppose it is possible that the bee was snorting pollen. I wonder if this particular bee found someone’s pot plants and spent the afternoon “pollinating” them. You know, I should have offered him some honey because I bet he had the munchies.

I had to pick him up and get his hammered self out of the garage. Picking up a bee is tough enough, but picking up a wasted bee is next to impossible. They keep staggering around and if you aren’t careful you just might find a bee’s stinger in your thumb. The first time that I was ever stung, was after I had squashed a bee to death on the grass and picked him up to see what was left. His stinger was left!

I used a couple of pieces of wood to grab this guy, and I was none too gentle. I don’t want a bunch of drunked up or stoned bees hanging around my place threatening the grandkids. I tossed him and the sticks into the alley and I hope he sobers up.
I don’t mind a guy getting a buzz on as it were, but this was a little early in the day to be shit faced on Honey Mead.

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