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May 11, 2009 | by  | in Opinion |
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There’s a Bee

I remember when I first looked in the mirror and wondered why I wasn’t a girl.

I was about eleven, and thought to myself that it was completely unfair that girls got to grow breasts and experience the ultimate act of human connection, with growing what father termed a “womb goblin”, while the best I could get was a receding hairline and five o’clock shadow. Why did my slut mother birth me onto the escalator of escalating male violence and competitiveness? Why couldn’t I be a somewhat attractive and socially acceptable woman? How is it fair that at age eleven my skin didn’t feel right? I could see the path my hormones would force me onto, and thanks to my parent’s controlling interest, I could not see a way off of it—Oh my fucking God there’s a bee.

There’s a bee, there’s a fucking bee on my ear. Shit guys, I’m serious. I’m twittering for help as we speak. Jesus, come on bee, you don’t go there, that entire area is specifically designed to be not for bees. That area’s for sound, or at least for decoration on deaf people. I can’t hear anything but a doom-laden buzz, spooky. Come on Twitter, why aren’t you at all useful? What the fuck is your business model? Why would Google want to buy you?!

Oh god! Bee! I think it’s a bumble bee. I pray that it isn’t a wasp, they can keep on stinging until I’m dead. Why won’t he just leave me be? Wait… If a bee can sting you then it’s a female animal, with shriveled and poisonous ovaries. Seriously, ask a misogynistic insect scientist, he or she will set you right. Misogyny, it’s not just for men no more. Now where was I? Oh yeah! Giant bee crawling into my ear.

Why has no help arrived yet? Why am I typing this while holding my head perfectly still? I think I’m going to need to remove this bee by myself, and that fills me with dread, as I am what is known as a coward with a bee in my ear.

Okay Mr Bee, I want you to bee very calm while I slowly claw at you with these chopsticks I’ve picked up. Now, I know have a motor skills disability that causes my hands to shake like the pouty and feminine buttocks found on the behind of Beyonce Knowles. I want to be that so bad. Now, if you could just… NO! Don’t panic, I’m trying to help you, you asinine pollination-obsessed wonder of nature.

That’s my dumb flatmates key in the door, isn’t it. Please Lord, don’t let her slam the door. Okay, okay, God’s real because that loud bitch. “Bex… Bex.” I softly call her. “Yes Bex, I know there is a bee climbing in my ear. No, I don’t know, maybe my earwax tastes of honey. Just Help. Me.”

Ow. Well, no sting, but her long fingernail has shredded my inner ear. Thanks Bex, you’re slightly better than a social insect. Good work.

God I wish I looked as good in a skirt as she does.

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About the Author ()

Nic Sando is a god amongst men, fifteen fathoms high he be, with strange and wyrd powers at his disposal. Only a fool won't harken his ears to the east when he hears The Sando man stumping his way. http://thesando.com

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