The Line: “You want to BEE my queen?”
The Response: “BEEat it, loser!”
The Line: “You must taste like honey, cause you’re so sweet.”
The Response: “You must BEE buzzed if you think you have a chance.”
The Line: “Will you BEE mine?”
The Response: “Get away, you’re giving me hives.”
The Line: “Lady, you are the bees knees!”
The Response: “Seriously? You must be one of those bumbling bees…”
The Line: “Hello, honey!”
The Response: “Buzz off!”
The Not So Fantastic Reality:
The above story was inspired by the following tidbits I encountered today:
ONE: On my short walk from my building to the parking lot, I picked up an unusual admirer today. The minute I stepped outside I was greeted with a very persistent honey bee. With every step forward he would buzz right along with me, mere inches from my face. I tried to ignore him at first, expecting he would realize I was no flower and be on his way. Well, either his sniffer was off or I smelled a lot better than I realized because he would not let up. Even with I juked left and then jived right he was right in sync with me. His hounding was beginning to grate on my nerves, as I didn’t want him for a passenger on the trip home and I was beginning to feel a little ridiculous at this point, dancing with a bee. Finally, in my haste to rid myself of this buzzing suitor and to be left to myself I might have, kinda lost it a teensy lil bit. “Seriously?!?!” I yelled at the poor winged-critter. I’m not proud of it, but he was really starting to BEE annoying. Well, I must have hurt his feelings because he flew off after that, to assault the next unsuspecting human I imagine. This brief encounter reminded me of other encounters I’ve had in the past, in my younger (thinner) days when I’d be approached by the opposite sex while out on the town. Those ‘men’, sometimes referred to as another type of insect (bar flies) amongst other things were equally persistent and lacking in fashion sense (horizontal stripes? Really?) as my bee-man today. The lines were about as lame as those above and I’d like to think the rebuff from yours truly was much wittier (though I doubt it) although I hold that I am no flower.
Love & Squirrels.