As a Ninja....fear me.

Bees.


That should be enough for you if you are a regular here.  For those of you who are new, thanks for coming over. I hate bees. I am terrified: the kind of terror that makes me freeze, whimper like a hungry puppy and lose control of the English language. 


Well spring has sprung in my little garden and that means bees, wasps, hornets, bumblers and carpenters are all out and checking ( for laughs) to see if I still all but pee myself to spot one of their kind. Carpenters don't count. They just hum to themselves and stare but I watch them...oh yes I do.


I take the dogs for walks on my "down" days and confess that the time with the "toddlers" is really fun. I love to follow along and watch their personalities.  That being said, my little piglet, Winston, is famous for the need to mark everything. EVERYTHING. Or attempt to. He just kind of hobbles along with one leg in the air trying to spray it all and tell the world he's been here.  I guess he told the wrong creature: a bee. He stepped on it.  He was sniffing and lifting and jiggling and well..."Winston-ing" when suddenly his happy dog day music stopped.  He began to limp and favor his foot. He couldn't even TRY to walk on it. 


 I get it buddy. I do. So I scooped him up and carried him home. Indulgence? Spoiled? Maybe, but if I had been popped, I'd want someone to carry ME home and whisper to me that it would be all right and that I was brave. He kept showing it to me. I don't know if he thought he would get cookies or spa treatments but I DID put him in the sun by the window and patted his head. Poor guy.


He healed.


Why all this?
WELL
 I was up north and stepped out on the porch to begin a leisurely walk with my son. 
"Hey Mom. There's a wasp."
I swallowed hard but walked right passed it. "No worries. Don't bother it. It won't bother you." I don't know who that was for: him or me. I hoped my voice didn't crack as loudly in mid air as it did in my head. Nah.


"uhhhh Mom? He's following you."


I felt my jaw tighten and that nervous trickle of sweat on the back of my neck. "It's okay. He won't be interested for long." I hoped. Panic fluttered in my chest; icy and cold. "Pleaaaaase. Not for long" I thought.


"Mom? He's on your pants."


"Wha....?"


ZAP


The scream that filled my mouth and chest was dusty and hot; filled with disbelief and terror.  The tears were instantaneous and I froze. That little motherfiretrucker jackhammered my leg until I broke free of the horror and swatted it to the ground. The throbbing started; the ache. I limped and swore and I mean SWORE...not the every day "damn" or occasional "sh!t" ...No way!  This was an unholy torrent of obscenities about my mother, someone's miserable female dog and Christ Almighty.  I'll pray later. I figured since that tiny demon had unleashed its hellish poison, I had earned a few verbal sins.  My son stood there trying not to laugh. It was tough and ultimately he failed.  The snort which was quickly followed by "You should have seen your FACE!"  sent me over the edge.


 I ran back in to the house and checked the spot of violation. It was lovely; red and swollen. Bastard. So I got the can: 27 foot spray range? Sounds good to me. I found him; AND his cousin Vinny, his sister Louella and their cute little wispy homes. I unloaded. My teeth were gnashed together and the guttural growl slipping between my lips could be compared only to that of a starving grizzly. My son stood safely on the other side of the screen cheering me on "Git em Mommy! Git em ALL!" the blood bath continued down the steps to the hose box. I flipped the lid and found some more. " C'mon fellas...I got somethin for ya."  Good Lord I sprayed so much they were too dead to drop off. They were simply frozen to their nests. It was like Pompeii. They never saw it coming. As if to add insult to injury, I reacted to the venom and earned a ten day course of antibiotics and some intense leg pain. My wound was so hot and red you could feel it through my pants. Much later that night, I finally found my bee-chi, sitting down to cry softly after the jokes were laughed out and everyone had gone to bed.  Winston came up with his raggedy tiger and put his paw on my leg.  " I get it Mommy.  You're brave.  It will be all right."


I couldn't WAIT to get back up north and retaliate (some more). I gladly accept the Bee Ninja challenge.


THIS weekend? Two were on my rug.I stopped short and gave the "Christmas Story.."HA!"  I swear they cowered together for safety and last rites.  Too late guys. I see you. Ninja fail.  I grabbed my shoe and rolled them under its sole until every part of them was separate; like that little kid game, Cootie?  AND? This morning, I rolled over to see one on my bed... no IN my bed.  He was scooped up in toweling and ground into bits then flushed.


Game on you little motherfiretruckers. Bring it. 
For Mother's Day I want a bee suit, a smoke can and some gas...


Go ahead and laugh. I know it's funny. That's why I told  you. ;)
Enjoy your day.