Bee Daddy (Story by Todd Thommes)

The world has a big problem. It’s called “Colony Collapse Disorder”. This is not the request by eminent British psychiatrists that the behavior of American colonies in wasting tea by throwing it into a harbor be labeled a disorder, or denials by top officials in the United States that Iraq is in a state of disorder or even a colony. No, all the honeybees are disappearing, and with no more pollination, no more us. Adult worker bees suddenly leave the queen and hive, forever. Reasons given: mites, antibiotics, pesticides, and “poor quality” queens. What does that last one even mean?

The real reason I found: Polar Pops. Massive cups of sweet nectar from the Circle K. There was an empty one on my porch, with a thousand bees around it trying to fuck it like some beautiful new queen. I opened my mouth to scream. They smelled Polar Pop on my breath and went in for the kill. I choked on the mass of bees. I woke in the hospital with stings over ninety-five percent of my body. I soon realized I had strange new abilities, like sensing ultraviolet light with my fingers. They call me the Bee Daddy now.

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