The Bee on His Knees

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My friend and neighbor, Mike, dropped by to see me this week. It was a glorious autumn afternoon. The sunlight is paler than summer and the leaves are turning color; falling gently over the land.

I am always happy when Mike stops by. If he does not bring a few beers with him, he might have ribs or enchiladas. Mike loves to cook and I can testify to his skill. This time, he strolled into my backyard with a few good beers and offered to share them with me. We instantly adjourned to the patio to soak up the outdoor beauty and refreshment.

We had just begun solving the weighty problems of the world when a Yellow Jacket wasp arrived at our table. The wasp took an immediate interest in Mike’s frosty glass. After a brief hesitation on the rim of the glass to sniff the bouquet, he dived in.

It became immediately clear the bug was no swimmer. We looked at each other and back at the wasp for a minute before we realized he was not trying to get out of the glass. In fact, a very close look revealed he was lying on his side drinking Mike’s beer as fast as he could chug it down. I think the level in his glass was dropping.

That is where we drew the line. I fetched a spoon from the kitchen and dredged the besotted wasp from Mike’s drink. I poured him out of the spoon and onto the table, where he proceeded to stagger about for several minutes. He ran into the decorative flowerpot, my beer and Mike’s beer more than once. Each time he found Mike’s glass, he tried his best to scramble up the side, but it was no use. He could flap his wings, but not in a coordinated way.

Eventually, a breeze caught him and blew him onto the patio. He staggered about there for a while until he began to sober up. He seemed to be having a problem with his head, possibly a hangover.

When he felt strong enough, he took flight, but swerved into the glass on the patio door and fell back on his little wasp kiester. When we stopped laughing, we sipped our drinks and discussed Spinoza. The bee struggled. Finally, the wasp took flight and flew a ragged course away from the patio. He made one more wobbly fly-over of our table about twenty minutes later, but this time he did not stop. We both hope he found his way home or possibly to a rehab center.

Whether or not he knows it, that wasp owes us one.

PS: Does anyone know the correct way to spell kiester? I am just curious.

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