Hank
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Poster: Hank @ Mon Apr 07, 2008 9:56 pm
Th' bees. Th' G_d-damned bees. They die in such great numbers, each individual shrieking bee-soul becoming kindling for my agony.
When th' bees are gone, th' crazies will roam free. You see, along with pollinating crops and making delicious honey for use on record covers by th' Ohio Players, all bees are tasked with annoying th' insane., th' sketchy, and th' moozled. When a bee dies, resource shifts must happen to continue th' work of crazy annoyance, which means that in time of bee plight, many low-level psychos and nutbars go unharassed. This is a big problem for me, as I spend at least 40% of my day interacting with these hoozleflumps and squingehammers. When th' bees stop pestering them, they remember why they came into my office in th' first place : to yammer at me in an inchoate rage.
There is such a thing as a bee-wolf.
If you're doing something to contribute to th' mass suicide of bees, please stop. My suspicion is that some sick *&^% is playing old 'Limp Bizkit' tapes into hive entrances systematically. This pretty much narrows it down to two or three culprits.
At this moment, I can hear th' crazies clambering up my drainpipe.
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