The Hose

Evil

CAMP X-RAY, UPPER EAST SIDE

We live in tumultuous and uncertain times. People used to laugh at others who constantly crane their heads upward to check that the sky is indeed not falling. But now you never know, whether it's the bigness of planes above your head or the smallness of microbes before your face. So you might well imagine my consternation when the peace of my apartment was invaded by a big ass bumblebee.

When I first saw him I leapt to my feet. I swatted at him. He evaded. I swatted again. He dashed. He dodged. I decided to put on some pants seeing as the window shades were wide open.

With pants on, I got serious. Swat. Swat. Flailing. Failing. But wait. The wind from my swatting just pushed the bee into the ceiling lights. The heat stunned it. It fell to the ground. I dumped out my metal mesh garbage can and used it to cover him. YES!



Hour 1 of captivity: He buzzes around wildly, sometimes smashing against the metal mesh. I ignore him.

Hour 2 of captivity: He has calmed down. I walk over and ask rhetorically, "Who's tough now?" I walk away.

Hour 3 of captivity: I rap viciously against the side of the metal mesh and he falls off. He climbs back on. I lift the garbage can slightly and thump it hard on the ground. He falls off again. I laugh. I tell him I'm going to H&M to buy some linen shirts for spring. I go.

Hour 6 of captivity: I consider spraying him with some chemicals stashed beneath the sink. I decide not to, because doing so would be cruel.

Hour 9 of captivity: He is now on the floor. I lift his cage. Is he still alive? Yes, he's moving, but sluggish. I snap a few photos (above).

Hour 18 of captivity: The next morning. I check on him. He's dead.