Bumble-Fuck Nowhere

“This land is my home!” cried the proud warrior Bee.

“It’s trash. You’re trash,” said Beehater.

The noble buzzer buzzed fiercely in defiance.

“Grrrr NO! NO NO NO NO NO! WE ARE BEES. We will sting you if you insult us again!”

The Beehater pointed at him and laughed, and did a dance with a little swirl. He knew Bees hated dancing. So he danced, and he danced.

“This cannot be allowed, my husband,” said the Bee Queen to her strong, virile buzzband.

“I know what I must do, my love. But if I sting him, surely I will get my stinger caught inside him, and die.”

“We cannot let our children grow up in fear of the Beehater and his dancing.”

The Bee kissed his Queen.

“I am not afraid of death.”

The Bee was preparing to sting the shitting hell out of the Beehater, when suddenly another man jumped into the scene.

“I am the Beekeeper, why are you harassing my bees?” he questioned, angrily.

The Beehater stopped his dancing momentarily to focus his attention at this new threat, that was his own size.

“I hate bees!” he shouted, “their buzzing is annoying and their hives look like garbage.”

“I know you,” said the Beekeeper, “You’re Donovan Chambers, the head of the homeowners association.”

The Beehater smirked and tapped his foot to a rhythm.

“That’s right-taptap.

And if you knooow what’s good for you- taptap

You and your bees will back up and leave town, forever-taptap.”

The Beekeeper didn’t budge.

“You drive a hard bargain, Beehater,” he said, but then he threw off his coat, and revealed his stinger.

“IT CAN’T BEE!” cried Donovan Chambers aka the Beehater.

“YES. I’ve grown a stinger! And unlike my bee friends, I will not die if you sting you!”

The beekeeper started wagging his butt in the direction of the Beehater.

“NO PLEASE, I’M SORRY!” cried the Beehater.

“It’s too late for sorries! I demand you surrender your position to someone who deserves it!” yelled the Beekeeper, moving closer and closer.

“No! No! Please! You can have my job!”

“NOT ME. THE QUEEN BEE.”

The Queen nodded her head and smiled, holding her Bee-husband’s hand.

“Our land is safe, my love. The god Beekamende has intervened. Our children will buzz loud and strong for many generations, surely.”

The Beehater ran away until he collapsed from exhaustion and died.

This run is today known as the Marathon.

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