Fairfield Woods - Johnny and the Bee

The summer sun warms the clover leaves at midday.  He doesn’t know when he will come but he hopes he does soon.  His had is kicked sideways to let him see the sky easier.  Johnny, a boy of only 10, lay on his stomach with the grass and clover tickling his skin.  A comic book of dinosaur riding soldiers with sci-fi guns has his attention at the moment.  His feet are up and he’s gently humming as he kicks lightly. 

It’s been about a half a comic book before he even starts to wonder.  Presently the ants are starting to find his packed lunch bag inside his small backpack, but they are just little black ones. Lasius niger, nothing to be alarmed about.  They don’t bite or kill or do much of anything but scurry about.  Johnny’s stomach growls, he sips his yoohoo and digs his hand into the Cheetos bag again.  The “real” cheese stains his fingertips.  He’s carful to only turn the pages at the corners so not to stain the whole comic. 

Suddenly, he hears it, buzzzz.  Hmmmm, buzz, Johnny pauses and looks up fro the dinosaurs.  A cheetah hanging half out of his mouth.  His small piggy nose, pink/orange lips, and blue eyes point to the oncoming bumble bee. 

“Good afternoon, George!” Johnny hails with a greeting hand in the air.  The bee darts to the side and then heads hi way. 

“Good afternoon, Johnny!” he hears in his head, definitely from the bee, right.  “Most definitely a good day!” the bees voice rings out clear as day.

Johnny scoops up his comic and stuffs it in his bag, crunches a cheetah and sits up. 

The bee zips by Johnny narrowly missing his right ear. 

“Hey! Wait up!”

“Very busy today Mr. Johnny, flowers to visit and leaves to hover over.  Plus! It’s my birthday! I’m one week old today! I must be getting on with my business, I only have 3 birthdays left!”

Johnny pauses, his backpack hangs by a long strap from one hand, his hat askew, he crunches on the Cheeto in his mouth.  He’s sucked all the cheese off of it already and now it’s just a spongy chunk of… of… whatever a cheetah is made of. 

The bumble bee lumbers away but Johnny can still hear him clear as if he was hovering right next to him.  He’s fussing about the clovers.  “This one, no overhear maybe? No, not quite right.  Maybe this one, ah! Yes, this one is nice,” he crawls into the flower, lumbering about collecting pollen. 

“Wait!” Johnny calls as he catches up to the teenage bee. “what do you mean you only have 3 birthdays left?”

“We bees don’t live too long, I’m a worker, a Bombus fraternus, and I work.”  The flower gently bobbing. 

“But that means you’re not even going to be here for my birthday!” Johnny exclaims this with a small tear in his eye. 

“Well Johnny, what can I say, I’m just a bumble bee, I can’t change my Fate.”

“Fate? What do you mean?” Johnny wonders, his 10 year old mind starts turning, trying to figure out what that has to do with birthdays. 

“It’s an expression, in any case I can’t change it so might as well not waste time.”

George buzzes to the next flower as Johnny walks along side saddened by his friends… fate.

“We can stop it!” Johnny declares pounding his fist into his off hand. 

“Stop what?” George puzzles. 

“Fate George, Fate!”

George shakes his head and move on to another flower.  His pollen covered legs now packed and heavy.  Johnny keeps pace with George for a while, he’s silent and sullen.

“Well my boy, time for me to head back to the hive and drop off this pollen.”

“No! you can’t leave until we figure out how to make you live longer!”

“But it’s no use!” I’m a bee and that’s all there is to it.”

“No!” Johnny cries and in frustration he reaches for the little bumble bee, he surrounds it in his little hand and brings it up to his face, eye level, so he can talk to this bee man to man.

He opens his hand, all a buzz and angry the bee wiggles around then, without warning BAM! The bee flies up and stings Johnny right in the forehead. 

“Ahh!” Johnny screams and falls backward grabbing his face.  The pain shoots through his body like lightning. 

He falls on his back crying, his face throbbing.  After several minutes the pain starts to fade and he feels the sting.  There is a small thing sticking out of his skin.  He pinches it, it’s the stinger, pulling it out he winces.  Throwing it away to the side in anger he sits up.  Opening his teary eyes, forehead throbbing he sits there in silent tears.

“George! How could you!” he yells, but no answer.  Huh? He’s puzzled. “Uh George?” he looks around. Then suddenly, science class comes to mind.  Bees can only sting once! He searches the clover and after a few frantic moments he finds him. “Oh George what did you do that for.” The little bee body is silent and dead.  On the tail end of his abdomen a gaping hold with a little bit of soft goo coming out.  Johnny wipes his tears, sitting in the grass legs out stretched he just looks at the bee for quite some time. 

“I know George, you didn’t mean it” he says to the bee’s corpse.  He reaches in his bag and pulls out a small ring box he found for a nickel at a garage sale.  He places the bees body in the box down on the soft packing and closes the box. “Don’t worry, you can still come to my party.”

“Thank you Johnny, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

The End

Written By Vincent Paolillo, Jr.