The "B"'s Bee
Today I got stung by a bee.
I was running down a trail, shirtless*, and I felt this awful stinging sensation in my right shoulder blade and I got this metallic taste in my mouth. So I swiped several times at my shoulder and resisted the urge to go all maniac and start frantically swiping the air all around me.
I saw little bee guy fall to the ground on its back, legs waving in protest. Poor beestard, I thought. You could've lived another year or two if you hadn't done that. Not because I stomped on it - though I considered it for payback (you sting me, I stomp you). But because isn't that what bees do? Die after stinging someone?
I thought I was immune from getting stung, since I am after all The Queen "B". I guess that memo never went out.
In some cultures, bees are referred to as The Small Messengers of God. I wonder what the message was.
Poll
*I wasn't naykid up top. I had a running bra on.
**I will keel you!!!