PRICKS POLLEN & PRICKS

So, a few weeks back I got stung by a bee. A son of bitch, reckless and bothersome yellow jacket. Now, I understand that bees are an integral part of our planet's ecosystem-a-bob with the honey and such, (actually, the yellow jacket, that of the genera Vespula and Dolichovespula are important predators of pest insects), but c'mon man, I was just chillin' outside in the sun, looking into the sky, minding my own damn business. Talk about pests. Geez. What did I do to you? Do I look like a pretty piece of pollen? (Actually, that's the honey bee, the only extant (non-extinct) member of the Apini tribe, and they only sting in defense of the hive - after alarmed bees release a pheromone that stimulates the attack response in other bees). On the other hand, yellow jackets (or 'yellow jacket wearing pricks' as I like to call them), who sting are female, as the male dies shortly after mating. It's these bitch bees or the social hunters who collect the food (mostly carbs and sugars) for the queen. Ok, so do I look like an apple, nectar or tree pollen? Settle down you man eating vampire. I only eat honey from jars, usually on toast with some peanut butter. That shit's the bees knees. (Once again, it's the honey bee who produces honey and the yellow jacket who annoys the hell out of you and scatters the picnic). Mind you, when I got attacked, I was in a high danger area under severe bright yellow alert, but it was the cowardly and cunning way in which the bee or wasp as they are sometimes referred to, silently and secretly crept up behind me - that really stings me. Pun intended. Right above the elbow on the inside of the arm. Ouch. They always get you in the most vulnerable of areas because they're dicks. Inside your shorts or shirt sleeve when your sitting at lunch, or on the toe through the bottom of the boardwalk at Point Pelee (thanks for that one Brian) That's why they're dicks. Like that goof in high school who bagged you in front of everyone in the hallway. Yeah, just like that. The pain immediately following the sting was intense, the venom filled lance puncturing and lodging into my upper inner arm, pumping me full of allergic inducing bee shit. For minutes after I was sure the bee was still somewhere in my clothes, even when I saw it sitting motionless and dying (actually, the female honey bee dies, but the yellow jacket can sting repeatedly) on the top of the short fence. So, thinking the bee could still possibly be stabbing my flesh with his little barb-wire weapon, I ran into the house, took off all my clothes and did a thorough inspection. It was gone, but it was not forgotten. The skin around the tiny invisible puncture hole was a weird pale white colour, not the flesh burning red you expect from a wound. It was weird because after the initial sting the flash of pain steadily subsided, now I know, because my body went numb trying to decide what to do about the injection. I felt little pain for the rest of the day and there was no swelling. It felt as if I got a little prick from a sneaky runaway nurse with a needle in her hand and surprise injections on her mind. Boy was I wrong. The next day and the days to follow were excruciating and bothersome. Swelling and redness of the entire back of my left arm, from the top of my wrist all the way to my armpit was followed immediately by dry and itchy, and let me stress, 'itchy' skin. I was feeling it now. I was not immune to the bee as first thought and my now semi-severe allergic reaction was all the proof I needed. My arm was twice the size of the other (thank god I ditched the sleeves)which would have been fine in a one armed flexing contest, but for my purposes, it was a pain in the ass. I now thought back to the last time I got stung. At least fifteen years ago out back by the dumpster when I worked at the grocery store in Kingsville. A decade and a half of venom free living - down the drain. I've heard a few different theories as to why there are so many more bees, or at least stinging bees this summer (weather change, excess garbage, the economy), but I'm not sure what to believe. Am I just sweeter than most, my sweaty, smooth and glistening flesh impossible to resist? No doubt the 'no sleeves' and tear offs leave me vulnerable and willing. Are my flashy black clothes and animal tattoos a turn on for the female yellow jacket, her lust for injection matched only by my attractive attire. No, probably not. They're just 'bee'ing pricks who like to ruin days. 'Bee' on your way, go find a bug or a plant please, and leave the prick being to us humans.