That time I was attacked by a bee and lived to tell about it

Night was beginning to draw close. I had just spent the day unplugged and spent the day doing the things we did back in the 80’s and 90’s. Namely reading things on actual paper. I read a lot all day long and closed my book. Since I was outside, I thought it would be a good time to just sit and enjoy the sounds of the neighborhood a little bit. I sat in a lawn chair behind our tree that used to be a bush. It kept me somewhat hidden from the neighbors and gave the illusion of isolation.   I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of a summer evening. The lawn mower in the distance. People walking their dogs. The breeze in the trees. And then…the buzz of a bee.

I opened my eyes to see the bee by the mailbox. Keep calm, I told myself, don’t act like a child and get all panicky. The bee probably won’t even bother me.

It was a nice thought except the bee flew right in my direction. To be perfectly factual, it headed in a straight shot for my head.

I stood up quickly and moved. Instinctively, I looked around to see if any of my neighbors were watching. No one nearby was out and I breathed a sigh of relief. I looked back at my chair to see if the bee was gone and couldn’t see it. Just as I thought, it flew right past me. But I decided to go inside for the night. That was enough of nature.

I saw something out of the corner of my eye on my shirt and looked down. There was the bumble bee on my green shirt scouting for pollen.

I can’t type the sound I made. It was a type of groan because I didn’t want to scream and arouse the neighbors. Instead, I began bobbing up and down trying to get the bee to fly away. No, I did not just brush it off like I would have a fly because it was, in fact, a BEE. Instead I bobbed up and down and tried fanning it with my hand. It started to move closer to my face.

I groaned again. It was kind of a Sheriff Rosco Coltrane sound but not a laugh. Definitely not a laugh.

Now some people judge me at this point of the story and others sympathize with me.

I bobbed and fanned my way to the backyard trying to come up with a plan. A plan that did not involve me getting stung by a bee.

It would not fly away it just kept inching closer to my neck and face. I needed something I could use to scrap the little fella off of me. Preferably something other than my hand. I looked around the yard for help and saw a pot of flowers. Bees like flowers. I needed to help him find some pollen. Or at the very least, something other than my shirt. I leaned over the pot and managed to scrap him off onto one of the dying flowers. He didn’t even seem to notice the transition and continued to scout around.

And that ended my unplugged weekend. I went inside where it was safe and logged back onto the internet.

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