Bee on Bee Violence

Bee on Bee Violence

by Luke J Morris

As the barb pierced his cheek, Elmer Snerdly thought back on his lousy day.  

He hated this part of town. Always full of young punk teenagers, mohawked freaks all too eager to stab their asses in an old man's face. He just wanted to get home, have a cup of nectar, make some honey with Margie, and die like a respectable two-week-old should. Instead some delinquent hyped up on bad clover had driven him down on the flower and was having his dominatrix way with Elmer's poor old cheek. He could see Lem Linkins looking on in horror, but he knew the ancient ladybug wouldn't lift a wing to help him. Only one thing to
do.

Elmer reached his feeler into his coat pocket and took out the spare stinger he had pulled from his father's corpse days before.  The youth payed no attention, too busy gesticulating morbidy with his arms and headbanging while snorting pollen and singing a buzzy death metal version of 'We Will Rock You'.  The old insect grunted as he stabbed upward, plunging Dad's tail into the punker's honeyhole.  Mohawk boy shrieked and lost his hover.

As the kid collapsed on him and he felt the bug juice cover his face and seep into his lungs, Elmer Snerdly smiled.  It was a worthy way to go.  Poppa Bee would be proud.