Living with the bees in town
This was it. The future years of my life spilling out in front of my eyes, cascading down my cheeks in the form of salty dew. Was it for this the clay grew tall? I couldn’t possibly answer that, Wilfred. All I knew was that I hadn’t told my bees about and Janet, and now they had something to say back.
Me and Janet met in high school, year ten. She was a sassy blonde with too much to say about Spanish influenza. I was a gawky excuse for a bloke, glasses as thick as a brick with a haircut to match. But she liked the cut of my jib and I thought she was one of the most easily- attainable girls around. We dated, fell in love, married, all the while my little guys being privy to every event that happened in our lives.
Janet never liked the bees much. She’d always tell me that they “take up too much of your time, Jerry. You can’t expect us to live a conventional life with our picket fence and nice yellow house with them around all the time. They’re a nuisance, they make me uneasy. Why don’t we just get a dog?” So a dog we got. A dog that wanted to please so hard that it pissed itself every time anyone said anything nice to it. Disgusting. All the time I kept subconsciously moving my eyes to the hive, where my heart lay, enveloped by lava and wax. But what could I do? I’d told Janet that I loved her and that the bees would no longer be a priority. Could I sacrifice a human relationship for my little guys?
To bee continued…