Monday, August 27, 2012
Two Goatherders VS A Bee
This tale falls into the ‘Acorn doesn`t fall far from the tree’ category. Mister has been heard to say that Miss Yodeling and I are like twins, and yeah, I`ll admit we do have some very similar traits. Dry crust removal from bread being just one of many quirks my daughter and I share. This episode though really drove home how alike we are….
It was a lovely late summer morning. Miss was in the passenger seat and I was driving. We were headed to her boyfriend`s house, who lives about twenty-five minutes away. (Nothing or no-one is close here in the hills of Pennsylvania.) We were doodling along our dirt road, the windows open and my classic rock station playing on the radio. Suddenly my daughter jerks violently. I glance over at her and see her searching the floor with wide eyes. The dialog went like this-
Miss-“Okay THAT was a bee.”
Me-“Are you sure?”
Miss-“Yes, I`m sure. I looked down at my arm and saw a bee on it.”
Me-“Did it go back out the window?”
Miss-“No, it`s in here somewhere.”
At this point of the journey, I pulled over. It is easier and safer to pull over and locate the bee then try to drive with said bee in car. Both Miss and I are terrified of bees. Yes, I know, she inherited that phobia from me just as I picked it up from my mother. My mother was a crazed killer when it came to any bug with a stinger. Bees found her enticing and quite alluring. I think it had to do with the amount of hair spray and lacquer she wore in her hair back in the day. Or, maybe they were impressed with the massive blonde beehive atop her head and wished to call it home. Whatever the cause, bees and all their cousins adored my mother. She held no warm, fuzzy feelings for them though.
Mom had a fly swatter that could knock a water buffalo into unconsciousness, I kid you not. It was two swatters taped together with black tape. I swear the thing weighed a solid pound. Heaven help any stinging insect that ventured into her home unsuspectingly. How my dad and Mister have put up with the shrieks, flapping, and general bedlam that a wasp produces I honestly don`t know. Sorry, I`m digressing again.
There we sit alongside the road and her car door is now open.
Miss-“I found him! He`s down in the crack between the door and the car.”
Me-“Step on him.”
Miss-“I`m not stepping on it!!”
Me-“Look in the back, Dad must have something to swat a bug with.”
She pawed about blindly; her eyes locked to the bee and came up with a package of weed eater string. With a nod from me she then proceeded to beat the bee into a smudge. Or so I assumed. Once sanity had returned we began our trek to the boyfriend`s house without further incident or insect invasion.
On the way home I was singing once more, only more loudly this time because I was alone, when I happened to look to the right and what to my wandering eye did appear? Uh-huh. The bee Miss had supposedly obliterated. I think he was quite disgruntled about being whipped with a package of weed eater string. He looked mad to me anyway. His antenna was crossed with ire, and his compound eyes held a glint of malice. The car came to another fast, dusty stop alongside the road. I exited the vehicle after grabbing the package of weed eater string from the floor of the backseat.
It wasn`t pretty but after a few minutes of the old swat and chase, the bee took off for flower stamens unknown and I leaped back into my car the victor. Mister, of course, merely shook his head when I relayed the story. He then asked how much damage was done to the car. There was not a scratch upon the car I`m pleased to tell him.
I bet the folks along our road are wondering what the hell is wrong with his wife and child, though.