Promptings from Valhalla - 3. Prompt 482 - The Bees

The door flew open with a loud bang, followed by a frantic Owen barging his way into the house. The garbage bag he was carrying snagged on the doorframe, ripping and spilling its contents all over the front hallway. He slammed the door shut and stood with his back against it, chest heaving. Sweat ran in rivulets down his pale face and his eyes were wide with fear.

I set down the lemon I’d been slicing and ran over to him. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

He pointed to our front yard shakily. “B…b…bees!” he managed to gasp out in between gulping breaths.

I raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Bees! There are bees outside! Hundreds of them!”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said.

“I’m serious! The whole front yard is swarming with bees! I’m lucky to have escaped with my life!”

I reached for the door handle, but Owen grabbed my arm. “Don’t let them in here!”

I looked down at the mess now filling the front hallway and wrinkled my nose. “You couldn’t have left the garbage outside?”

“I was running for my life. So sorry to have offended your sense of smell.”

I rolled my eyes. “Let me go take a look.”

“Don’t let any in here!”

“Will you relax? I won’t let any in.” I opened the door and checked out the porch before opening the screen door. “There aren’t any on the porch.” I walked outside and looked around. I didn’t see any bees, so I walked over to our designated garbage area. One of the cans was lying on its side with the lid nearby. About five bees buzzed around the can, checking out the contents. I shooed them away before setting it upright and replacing the lid.

When I went back inside, Owen was refilling another garbage bag with the contents of the first. “Hon, there’s like five bees outside. What the hell’s your problem?”

“Five? Chris, I’m telling you that the whole front yard was swarming with the vile things.”

“I know you’re a city boy, but seriously Owe…I told you before we moved here that there are bugs in the country.”

“I know that! Don’t treat me like I’m some queen who freaks out over the smallest thing!”

I stifled my laughter, but not before Owen scowled and threw the trash bag at me, stomping off in the direction of our room. Way to prove your point, I thought.

I finished cleaning up the garbage and brought it outside before returning to the kitchen to finish making dinner.

About an hour later, Owen still hadn’t emerged and dinner was ready. I went into our room and found him on the bed, intently studying something on his tablet.

“Dinner’s ready, babe.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Don’t be like that.”

He ignored me, so I sat down next to him. He frowned and moved away. I put my hand on his leg and squeezed. “C’mon, Owe…don’t ‘bee’ like that. Get it?” I waggled my eyebrows and grinned.

He rolled his eyes in an exaggerated fashion and shoved my hand. A hint of a smile appeared on his face. “You and your cheesy puns…”

“I made your favorite. Lemon chicken.”

His body posture relaxed, and he smiled. “Sounds good.”

“Great, we can eat in the backyard if you want.”

“As long as the bees are gone.”

I pulled him to his feet and wrapped my arms around him. “I’ll protect you from the evil stingy things.”

He laughed and pecked my lips. “My hero. Let’s eat. I’m starving.”

We headed to the kitchen and piled our plates full of chicken, rice, and vegetables, before heading onto our back porch. We were about halfway through our meal when Owen put his fork down and stared at the sky. “Do you hear an airplane?”

I listened; there was a low buzzing noise growing increasingly louder. “I don’t think that’s an airplane. Look at that tree limb!”

There was a large oak tree next to our shed. One of the branches looked like it was alive and crawling with hundreds of…

“Bees! I told you so! See, I’m not just some dumb city boy!” Owen yelled before running into the house.

I wasn’t far behind him. We watched in growing fascination and horror as our backyard filled with the bee swarm.

Over the next several days, the bees settled into the large limb on our oak tree. We eventually consulted with an apiarist who moved the swarm to a more suitable location, much to Owen’s relief. I gave him a jar of honey from our swarm for his birthday. He told me there better be something else in the bag too, although he was smiling when he said it.