I was stung by a bee yesterday. I was conniving enough to get out of work with enough time to get shwasted. I stopped at a gas station, to fill up, and I saw beer cans sold individually. God, if I'm not supposed to drink and drive, why do you make it so easy?
So I bought a beer can...ahem....2 beer cans and drank on the way to a buddy's house. Upon arrival more drinking ensued.
More drinking
A joint
A margarita.
Then my buddy proclaimed- "There's a bee nest on my garage...wanna hit it with a tennis racket."
Now I am very aware of all the benefits bees grace our lives with; but I was fucked up, and the idea of hitting bees with a tennis racket seemed appealing as hell. So my friend and I walked outside and fought a bees nest for 30 minutes hopped up on booze and hash.
The neighbors must have
I was stung, but I was too high to notice. I woke up this morning with a sting on my arm, and surprise in my head. My arms is swollen, but fuck, it was all worth it.
You really should have seen it, we fucked those bees up.
I don't know what I'm talking about.
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1 comment:
at the house i grew up in there were azaleas in the front yard. when they bloomed in the spring there were these fat ass bees (like huge fuckers) that would fly about them. my brother and i would smack them with tennis rackets. we got 1 point for a kill and 2 if we hit each other with one. and to think we had a pool in the backyard. wow.
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