War Against the Underground Bees Part II

This is Part II of an entertaining, true-story, 3-part series about two young boys and their war against the underground bees. (And, yes, one of the boys was me.) If you're breaking into the middle of the story, feel free to read Part I below. _________________________________________

The next morning, about the same time that early birds get their worms, I ran over to what I expected to be a defunct bee colony. Corey was already there, and much to our amazement and chagrin, so were the bees! They had done the impossible. Our staunch foes had dug a completely new hole into their hidden hideout—overnight!

This was too much for the two of us. The bees’ marvel totally humbled us in their presence. They had scored a significant victory in our war. These bumbling, instinctive insects had one-upped us. We could almost hear their hearty laughter as we stood there in dismay. We were not about to leave this gaping hole in our self-pride. In our fierce rage (and witless stupidity), we quickly found some sticks and charged the bees with the enmity of a mother bear ferociously attacking any threat to her cubs. In the heat of our anger, all control and logic was lost. We began to swish and swash our ineffective weapons around in a futile effort to murder every bee within stick length. At first, they didn’t seem to notice. Then, they began to take interest in our obvious, barbarous wrath. They may have been amused by our doltish gallivanting, because they did nothing in response. Finally, however, they took action.

Our impulsive counter-offensive attack resulted in the first casualty of the war on our side. My comrade-in-arms dropped his weapon and screamed with the agony of a man horrifically wounded in combat. He hastily retreated into his house, which left me incredibly outnumbered! It was now only a solitary 10-year-old against all the forces that the winged warriors could muster. Like the final man at the Battle of the Little Bighorn, I put forth a stalwart and gallant effort with my skinny stick to gain revenge for my fallen compatriot. Even the greatest trooper, however, eventually encounters his Achilles’ heel. The wound which the bees inflicted upon me sent me dashing away like a dog with its tail between its legs. The second battle was over, and the bees were yet again victorious.

After the nasty puncture was treated professionally by my mother, I spent the rest of the afternoon and that night recovering from it. The next day would be revenge of the highest degree against my new archenemies, the bees. Sleep was an elusive shadow as I lay awake in bed, eagerly anticipating the day of reckoning.

To Be Continued...