Fridays For Future, Climate Strike Online, StoryADay May: When Bees Collide

This post is part of StoryADay May ( #StoryADay #StoryADayMay @storyadaymay #freeshortstory #FridaysForFuture #ClimateStrikeOnline

Did you know honeybees aren’t native to the Americas? There are tons of native bees, though, that specialize in pollinating native plants like squash, blueberries, and tomatoes. Did you know bees are descended from wasps? Kewl!

Yes, I went down a research rabbit hole this morning, having done a search for bees and having brought up a whole page of articles called, “Why are honeybees so important?”

In addition, my #2 Daughter made me this gorgeous bee quilt because she knows I love bees. All the bits are separate bits fused onto the flower panel. Dear God, it’s beautiful.

Also, my friend Kathie Hart introduced me to West Side Story at an impressionable age. So….

When Bees Collide

Harrison the carpenter bee and Perdita, the sweat bee always had to sit next to each other in the malt shop, because nobody but Perdita could fit onto the bench next to Harrison’s fat ass.

The door opened, bringing with it the smell of flowers.

Naturally, everybody turned to look, and, naturally, the group in the doorway paused to soak up the regard.

Melia, the honeybee, and her girl posse strutted into the shop, leaving the door to close on its own, and took up the whole counter by sitting on every other stool, daring anyone to take the empty ones between them.

“Big shots,” Perdita muttered. “What makes them think they’re so important?”

“You hear it on the news all the time,” Harrison buzzed back. “I guess if you get told something enough, you start to believe it.”

“They’re not even native.”

“Hey!” Harrison elbowed his friend. “That ain’t nice.”

“It’s true, though.”

A door in the back opened and closed.

“Uh-oh,” Harrison said. “Guess they finished their game.”

Osmio and his gang, the Blue Boys, had been in the back shooting pool. Before that, they had been sitting at the counter.

Now they stopped, stink-eyeing Melia and her crew, who pretended not to notice, although the set of their bodies said otherwise.

“Those are our seats,” Osmio said.

“Not anymore,” Melia said, over her shoulder, not even looking at him.

“We were here first,” Osmio’s first lieutenant said.

“And we’re here now,” Melia’s first lieutenant answered, to snickers from the other honeybees.

Perdita edged toward the end of the bench. “Getting hot in here,” she muttered. “Think we should leave?”

Harrison, not moving said, “Where would we go? Eh? Where would we go?”

Pops, the owner of the malt shop, came out from the kitchen. Pops was a tall, abnormally thin wasp who had never been part of a gang. A born pacifist, rumor was he had been a potter before he quit to take over the shop from his parents.

“Let’s keep it nice in here,” was his byword, and he said it now. “Tell you what – You ladies all move to one end of the counter and let the Blue Boys take the other end. Sugar water for all of yez, on the house.”

The honeybees looked to Melia, who shook her head no.

The Blue Boys buzzed in threat.

The honeybees wiggled their stings and buzzed back.

“Come on,” Osmia growled. “Bring it, buzzitches. Make it a good one, because your first sting’ll be your last.”

Pops flapped his upper hands into the air. “Awright, okay, have it your way. But take it outside. I got legitimate customers.”

The honeybees eased off the stools and faced off with the Blue Boys.

The outer door opened again, bringing a scent of rotting meat.

It was Mac and his Yellowjackets. They had been legend for decades. Each of them had his scars from rumbles fought and won, their skills honed from battling and vanquishing everything from other insects to mammals thousands of times their size. Ask anybody where the Yellowjackets’ headquarters was, and anybody will tell you, “Anywhere they want it to be.”

The Blue Boys seemed to melt out the door as soon as the last of the Yellowjackets cleared it. The honeybees buzzed respectfully and slipped out after the Blues, turning in the opposite direction once outside.

The Yellowjackets nodded in confident courtesy to the other patrons and took the counter seats.

Pops relaxed in the presence of fellow wasps, even though they weren’t “his kind”.

“Tomato hornworms coming right up,” he said. He shook his head and gestured toward the now-closed outer door. “Kids these days,” he said, and nobody contradicted him.

MY PROMPTS TODAY: Bee quilt panel, West Side Story, plight of bees, USDA’s Bee Basics.



I was born in Louisville, Kentucky, but now live in the woods in southern Indiana. Though I only write fiction, I love to read non-fiction. The more I learn about this world, the more fantastic I see it is.

You may also like...

One thought on “Fridays For Future, Climate Strike Online, StoryADay May: When Bees Collide

Leave a Reply, If You Ple-az

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.