The Thing About A Sting
Why does a bee sting? For the answer you gotta go straight to the stinger. So directly I go, to the honey bee on the red clover there. She looks sharp. “Um,” I say, absentmindedly rubbing the stinging lump on my backside. “Hello, little honeybee...?” “Bzzz,” she says through her fuzzy brown body. The little bee methodically works the field clover, chubby stripes balanced on dark, graceful toetips. Honeybees pick up sound vibrations through sensitive tapered feet; feet made for dancing and hard manual labor. “Good day to you, you ground-bound jumbo.” “Hey.” “Who has zee stinger?” the bee asks, padding across the purpley long-shag clover carpet. I am careful not to stare at her round brown backside; it might signal unhealthy interest. Politeness is in my interest. I breathe in the sweetness of warm clover, listening to the hum of insects happily working. Beneath my bare feet tender green leaves and stems perc...