On Bees, Those Stripy Little Shits

I’m a city boy, born and bred. I didn’t spend my childhood traipsing through the wilderness, collecting all my belongings in a little bindle, sailing down the mighty Mississippi river on a raft, and faking my own death. Because of this, I have more experience navigating a sprawling metropolis than I do understanding and appreciating many of natures’ most prevalent critters. But, with all that being said, I think I am well within my rights to assert this one opinion that I hold so closely and so dearly: fuck bees.

If you know me at all, you know that I have a pretty bad case of arachnophobia. I hate those lil eight legged hoes. I know they catch and eat mosquitos. I know they basically just hang out in their cool little webs and chill. I know almost all of them are completely harmless. I DON’T CARE. I hate that they have too many legs, I hate that they have scary little fangs, and above all else, I HATE that they’re furry! Dogs can be furry, cats can be furry, your one relative who has seemingly never encountered the idea of razor can be furry but insects should not be!

Now I’ve expressed these feelings to basically anybody who has ever listened to me talk for more than thirty seconds, but the opinion that I’ve kept to myself for too long and that finally must be said is fuck bees.

Basically, everything I’ve said I hate about spiders, also applies to bees: they do good stuff, they pollinate flowers, they make honey…blah blah blah. They also have too many legs, weird furry bodies, venom, and instead of fangs, they got stingers! You may be reading this and pondering to yourself, “why has Will waited 40+ essays to unleash his bravest, most beautiful and most powerful opinion?” Well, dear reader, I’m so glad you asked!

Last weekend, I decided to go for a run. A good decision in almost every way! Exercise, mental health, fresh air! Well, no good deed goes unpunished because on the second half of my run, about as far away from home as I could be, I was lucky enough to be swarmed by bees! Why? I HAVE NO CLUE! I was incredibly lucky that I was only stung once (it must be my super human speed…or possibly the way I spewed every profanity I know while flailing around like a man holding a live wire in his teeth). But guess what, getting stung once still sucked a colossal amount!

Not only did it hurt much more than something of that size should, the next day my arm had swollen a cartoonish amount while maintaining a temperature of roughly 1,000 degrees and an itch factor unknown in the deepest depths of hell. It was so bad that I had to go to the doctor, where I felt like the world’s largest baby when they asked, “What’s wrong” and I replied, “I got stung by a bee.” A TINY BEE. ONE SINGLE BEE.

Fuck bees, fuck honey, fuck flowers. I hate them all and I don’t care who knows.

What about you? Do you hate bees or is our friendship over?