The Great Bee Affair of Summer '17

How's everybody doing?  Did you have a good summer?  That's great.  I've got a story for you.  You may have heard it, because I thoroughly enjoyed telling it to everyone.  It's a lot better with my visual recreation of events, but I think I can still tell it here with flair.

This past summer, our observant neighbor sent my husband Drew a text message along with a pic of the side of our house.

You have bees.

With the appropriate amount of moaning, groaning and cussing, we traveled to the side of the house and noticed sure enough! Bees. Yellow jackets, to be precise. Nasty little bastards!

Drew's immediate response:  Carefully tear off the siding and gingerbread molding to reach the nest and remove the bees.

My immediate response: 

What we did was go to Lowe's and buy every yellow jacket killing device they sell because ripping apart the outside of the house wasn't in our summer plans.  Plus, that gingerbread molding is very delicate and there's no way it would last.

Strangely enough, most of the devices worked.  We sprayed toxic waste in there.  We used some kind of hive foam.  We hung up a trap that looked like a bedazzled medieval torturing device.

Seriously. Look at this damn thing. 

Eventually, we were left with but two yellow jackets that seemed to not want to take the hint and die.  I let them live as an example to others.  

"Go forth and sing your song of the horrors you have witnessed here so that others of your kind will know this as the place of death! Any who invade shall die!"

I literally stood in my yard and gave this speech, including dramatic arm gestures. Someone should have recorded my Oscar-worthy performance.

Later that week, my fearless knight Andrew the Brave traveled out into the kingdom to moweth the grasseth.

Seriously, have you seen Drew mowing the lawn?  We live on a piece of land the size of a median strip.  He has an electric mower and a long extension cord because he doesn't need it to be any further from the house than about fifteen feet.  By the way, if you can get away with it, the electric mower is great.  There's no gas smell and it's never broken down.  Two of our neighbors have borrowed it over the years when their gas-guzzling grass-chompers have died.

Anyhoo, Drew was mowing the lawn when suddenly he comes flying into the house...

"I GOT STUNG BY A BEE!"

Drew goes immediately into the downstairs bathroom because it's the only room in the house with adequate lighting.  Every other room in the house is dim as hell.  Like you expect to see an Emo kid cutting themselves in the corner, or that slimy-haired girl from "The Ring" scurrying across the floor.  My house is lit like a low-budget thriller starring C. Thomas Howell, Liv Tyler, and the black guy from Stargate: SG1.  (He was the best actor on that show and he never said a damn thing.  Love him!)

But back to the horror movie we're currently starring in.

"Got stung where?"

"Under my eye."

"Are you kidding me?"

"It was one of those yellowjackets.  Is there a stinger?  Is there a stinger?  Is there a sting--"

"Hold still!!!"

I inspected the teeny-tiny bump under his eye.

"No stinger.  Do you want me to finish mowing?  I will."

And I meant it too.  I have no fear of bees and they ignore me.  They obviously recognize the estate Queen when they meet her and treat her with reverence.  But Drew the court jester?  He's up for grabs.

"No.  I'll keep mowing."

"Ok. Stay away from that side of the house."

Five minutes later...

"I GOT STUNG BY ANOTHER BEE!"

"Again?  I told you to stay away from them!  Where did you get stung this time?"

I travel to the bathroom to find my husband in the process of dropping his shorts and his briefs.  With one foot propped up on the toilet, he bent over and I found myself face to face with my husband's gay-terrain.

I can now officially declare that there is not one inch of skin on that man I haven't seen.

"What the hell were you doing out there?"

"I think I ran over a ground hive."

"Did you try to stick your dick in it, or something?  How would a bee have gotten into your underwear?"

"It flew up my shorts."

"And into your underwear?"

"JUST CHECK FOR A STINGER!"

"There's a lot of uncharted territory back here.  Can you give me a clue of where to look?  Your nutsack?  Your taint?"

"Somewhere here."  

He jabs at the point where his leg and manhood meet.

"Is there a stinger?"

"Ummmmmmm--"

"Is there a stinger?!"

"I don't know.  I can't stop laughing long enough to look for one."

"IS THERE A STINGER?!"

"No!  And there's no bee in your shorts.  Are you sure you got stung?  Maybe a pube got caught on your underwear and it freaked you out.  While I'm back here, do you want me to shave or wax your undercarriage?"

"No!"

"You're kinda chafed. I have some moisturizer--"

"NO!"

He pulled up his shorts and turned to find me trying to hold back my laughter.  It probably looked like I was having a stroke.

"Do you want me to mow the lawn now?"

"No.  I'm almost done."

"Well, try not to flirt with anymore insects out there, ok?"

You would think this might be the end of the story of how my husband was molested by a ground bee.  But...

Two days later...

"WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY HUSBAND?"

His face had swollen to the point that he was unrecognizable to me.

It legitimately freaked me out.  Everyone I saw at work I screamed at violently.

"GO LOOK AT DREW'S FACE!  HE'S HIDEOUS!!!"

One trip to the doctor later, Drew was on some good meds.  He was back to normal in a couple of days.

This was a day later. His eye was much worse.

In the meantime, you know I had to ask...

"I still don't think you got stung in the taint. Do you want me to check to see if that's swollen too?"

"Sure."

This time leaving the briefs on, Drew dropped his shorts.  He didn't even have to bend over for me to see that yes, he had been stung in his upper inner thigh.

"OH MY GOD!  IT'S HUGE!  IT'S LIKE YOU'RE GROWING A SECOND BALL SACK OUT OF YOUR LEG!  THAT'S SO GROSS!!!!  EWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!  HOW ARE YOU ABLE TO SIT DOWN?  YOU'RE PROBABLY THREE INCHES TALLER IN THE CHAIR NOW!  CAN YOU EVEN FIT UNDER THE DESK?  AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"

I'm such a loving and supportive wife.  And you are welcome for it.

~Steph