I swallowed a bee. Not on purpose. I was out boking and singing along to my current favorite album (the last best concert I went to) and, well, my relationship with bees requires some explaining.
When I was a kid, bees liked to land on my glasses, then climb around to the inside. In between the glass and my eyeball. Have you ever tasted your bravery? Courage? Just whether you could stand really fucking still? Bees like my eye juices okay.
So a bee came at me. Went in my mouth while I was singing on my bike ride. If you can’t sing while you’re exercising, you’re working too hard. I may or may not have been part of a roving band of violent minstrels when I was younger. That’s beside the point. The damn bee I can still feel it on my uvula. Aaaaaa
Guess you will need some kind of face shield from now on.
The worst part is last summer I bought a bunch of bright colored balaclavas to protect from sunburn. Bees? Who needs bee protection
Am I missing the point that the balaclava could have also prevented the bee’s demise?
Maybe. It would have prevented it going into my mouth and me swallowing it, and possibly it setting up a little nest in my sinuses. The bee chose to be eaten. I did not choose to eat it. It was like, antivegan. I don’t know the right word.