"Buzz Buzz" - That's Bee for "I'm an Asshole"

Fuck bees. What’s that you say? I’m stealing material? So let me get this straight, just because some comedian said that exact phrase in one of his stand up routines I can’t say it myself? Did it some how become intellectually copyrighted material? It’s absolutely idiotic to think such a thing. Seriously, the phrase combines a commonly used swear word with the use of imperative mood followed by a noun. There’s nothing original or unique about it. Anyone can use this format. Watch:
“Fuck Dane Cook!”
Moving on.

So bees have been added to the long list of things that I can’t stand. I would have thought bees were already on there too but they were not until now. You see, up until recently I had never been stung by a bee. That’s right, unlike Macaulay Culkin in “My Girl” (what, too soon?) I went through my entire childhood without ever experiencing the painful ass thrusting of a bee. I even made it through the awkward and emotionally painful days of high school unscathed by bees. I guess everything wasn’t complete shit in high school but I digress.

College, no bees. It’s not until I enter the adult world that I get stung by fucking bees. You would think that bees go away once you become an adult, like the boogey man or a belief in “happily ever after,” but I assure you, those sons of bitches are out there and their stingers are real. Hella real. I was stung twice in two days. Emotionally, I don’t think I’ll ever be the same.

The first bee sting came as quite a surprise. There I was walking through the woods minding my own business when a bee came around and started buzzing around my head. Now, up to this point I had been dealing with bees all summer. Every time they buzzed around my head I just applied the T-Rex Method. You know, “He can’t see you if you don’t move.” (Jurassic Park anyone?) This always worked like a charm. The bee would buzz around a little bit and then go on its merry little way. Seeing how a bee was buzzing around my head I quickly utilized the T-Rex Method and halted all movement. Well this bee somehow missed the memo because the mother fucker decided to sting me right on the head. That’s right, on my head. The “Bzzzzzzz” he made didn’t mean, “I pollinate flowers and make honey,” it translated more closely to, “I hope the venom seeps into your brain and you die ass clown.”

The pain was excruciating. I had never felt such a thing in my life. It was like all the terrible pop music from the past 10 years had condensed into one pin prick and injected itself into my head. It hurt like a bitch. What was worse is that I’m an adult as all this happens. I couldn’t cry for an extended period of time in hopes of gaining some self-assuring attention and I couldn’t run to mommy for an all better kiss on the head. All I could do was focus in on the unreasonable pain coming from my head. Hopelessness set in as I winced in pain, all alone, making such sounds as, “Ooooooooooo,” and, “shhhhhhhhh-ahhhhhhh.” The terrible pain lasted for over and hour. I’m still scarred from it and I’m still bitter. I wish I could end my story here but the worst was yet to come.

What I’m about to tell you is factual and quite frankly very frightening. If you are rather squeamish, scare easily, or are under the age of 35 you may not want to read on. A true horror story is about to be revealed. Don’t say you weren’t warned. Second bee sting – the very next day:

So once again there I was walking through the woods minding my own damned business only this time the circumstances were a little more, how do I say this and sound ridiculously intelligent? Oh, right, the circumstances were gay. You see the second bee sting occurred while I was hiking up a mountain, in the middle of the night, while I carried 50 pounds of crap on my back. Why was I in such a situation? It’s too soon to talk about it. Too many bad memories . . . .

So I’m climbing this mountain in the middle of the night when all of a sudden I hear that familiar sound of a buzzing bee. Only this time the buzzing sound coincided almost instantaneously with a sting on my arm. Following the sting I quickly realized that the buzzing sound was coming from multiple sources and multiple directions. I had somehow managed to wander into a bee’s nest at night and it was very clear that the message the bees were sending to me with their buzzing translated into something along the lines of, “We are raging assholes who live only to inflict pain on helpless souls lost in the dark because we are hell spawn who hate freedom.” Yeah, it was something like that.

So what did your hero do? At this the point the T-Rex Method was moot considering I had already been stung and pin pointed as a target so I did what any manly man would do. I ran like a little girl up the hill screaming and cursing hoping the bees didn’t get me. Hey, don’t judge. I was instructed to run away if I came about a bee’s nest not swat at the bees like a moron only to be stung a million more times. You would have done the same thing. Well maybe not the whole screaming thing.

I ran about 100 feet up the mountain and stopped. While I was panting like a madman due to the combination of fear and physical exertion, I was relieved to be far away from the bees nest. Bees are small so 100 feet for them is like 15 miles for us. There’s no way they could have followed me I thought. Then I heard it. “Buzzzzzzzzz.” The bees followed, no chased me. They chased me up a fucking hill. Fearing for my life I took off sprinting up the mountain again only this time I sprinted further and faster and cursed a whole lot more. As I ran I pictured their stingers pointed at me, evil grins on their little bee faces as they sought to inject their poison into my blood stream.

After about 200 feet I stopped running. Sweat poured down my face as I stood there catching my breath, thinking about how crazy it was to have to run away from bees twice, up a mountain. It was almost comical in a demented way. Before I could wipe the sweat from my brow it happened again. “Buzz buzz.” You got to be shitting me was probably the first thing that came to mind. I broke T-Rex protocol and began swatting like a madman while simultaneously cursing the psychotic insectoid that stemmed from the Order Hymenoptera (I did a report on the Hymenoptera Order – of the insect Class that belongs to the Chordate Phylum which includes bees – in my zoology class in high school and I haven’t been able to show off the knowledge I gained form that report until now so please let me have this moment). Since it was dark I just swatted like a moron at the air while the bee continued to harass me with its buzzing taunts. Frustrated and nearly crying, I took off running uphill again.

It was like a scene straight out of a horror movie: a panic stricken victim running away from an unseen stalker who we all thought was dead but now he’s back and even more pissed and the victim is fleeing through the woods in the dark without any sense of direction. Except this horror movie sucked because it was me playing the role of the victim and there was no unnecessary boob shot. I mean, if you’re going to be brutally murdered by a raving poltergeist inspired psycho you should at least be able to see some boobs first.

I ran like a madman. I didn’t care that it was dark. I didn’t care about the rough terrain I was moving through. I zoned the fuck out and ran. All the while cursing, screaming, whining, and panting could be heard throughout the forest. I must have sounded like the biggest bitch in the world but I didn’t care. I was running for my life. After fleeing for quite some time I stopped to catch my breath and to assess the situation. Within just a few moments the horrific sound blared in my eardrum again, “Buzzzzzzzzzzz.” I shit you not. That bee was still on my ass. It was obvious that he wanted my tears, my blood, and my soul. I now know how Edgar Allen Poe’s character felt in the poem “The Raven.” I was on the very brink of insanity ready to turn my soul over to the darkness.

In a last ditch effort of self preservation I decided to try and run from the hell spawned bee one last time. This was it: victory or death. And once again I found myself running up a goddamn mountain in the middle of the goddamn night. As I ran sneaky allies of the bees began pitching in to assist in my demise. Tree branches, vines, and thick bushes all tried to wrap themselves around my body as I fled. I didn’t let them stop me. I plowed through them like progress through the rainforest and everyone knows you can’t stop progress. Nothing was going to stand in my way, well, except for more bees. And now that I think about it, a moat with some alligators in it probably would have been a difficult obstacle to overcome as well but there I am digressing again.

Despite Mother Nature’s best efforts, it was my own physical exhaustion that caused me to finally stop. At this point nothing mattered anymore. I gave 100 percent and then some. It was now time to accept my fate. As I stood there regretting all the things I hadn’t done in life I awaited the buzzing and then death by lethal bee injection. I waited and after 30 seconds the only thing that could be heard throughout the forest was my own breathing. Nothing. I waited awhile longer. No bee. It was now very clear to me. Somehow I survived. I regained composure and continued my march up the mountain forever a changed man.

Bees are terrible creatures. I am fortunate enough to have survived an encounter with them so I can warn you all about their evil plots of destruction. So next time you hear the familiar sound of a bee don’t be fooled. That “Buzz buzz” translates exactly into, “I’m an asshole.”