Mission: Extermination

We’re getting our house painted.  But on the west side of the house, it appears there was an underground beehive, so the bees were terrorizing the guy doing the painting.  I tried spraying down into the hole with bee killer, but they all just came back in force.  So my wife called a bee exterminator.  (And trust me, there is nothing more emasculating than your wife having to call a specialist to remove a bee hive.  If there were a list of “reasons women continue to talk to men,” beehive removal would be on it.  Right behind “making babies.”)

Anyway, I had to run home during work to greet the bee guy.  He went on for 20 minutes about this super special potion he had that would kill the bees, or at least insult them to the point that they wouldn’t return.  (I imagined him standing next to the hive and telling “yo momma” jokes for an hour.)

He said the hive was pretty easily accessible, so he wouldn’t charge me much.  He said he’d have to charge me full price if he had to put on the bee suit and dig around to get the hive out.

I admit, this made me chuckle a little bit, since I pictured the “bee suit” as an actual bee costume.  Like if he were the Georgia Tech Yellowjacket mascot or something.  But I realized why going this route would be more expensive.

First, upon putting on the bee suit, it would take him a while to get to know them – infiltrate their bee society.  Get to know their traditions and customs.  Befriend enough of them to be trusted.

Then, at Thanksgiving dinner, having earned their trust, he turns on them and sprays them all.  Someone yells “I knew it was you – you broke my heart!” Then he grabs the yams and takes off running.  Then I pay him $75.

But instead, he just sprayed the hive.  Seems like it worked.