The Bee Crusher

Earlier this afternoon the wife told me there was an enormous bee hive by the deck.

I took a look—not a good scene. Big hive, a ton of bees resting on top. But we had family coming over for dinner. Something had to be done.

Enter: This guy …

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When I’m not writing books or blogging about the bathroom or Tweeting nonsense or watching Happy Days re-runs, I’m this guy: The Bee Crusher. My outfit in trademark pimped-out superhero: One black sneaker, one blue slipper. The Hoodie Footie my wife bought for Valentine’s Day. A towel around my head and two pink rubberized kitchen gloves on my hands.

Oh, most important—an autographed copy of Kostya Kennedy’s excellent Pete Rose biography (aka: the nearest available book).

With great courage and supreme power, I tiptoed up to the hive … closer … closer … closer … closer—SLAM!!!!! I pushed the book up against the bees, utilizing every ounce of force to bring forth universal death. I held my stance for six … seven … eight seconds, then backed away.

Mission accomplished.

I am The Bee Crusher.

2 thoughts on “The Bee Crusher”

  1. Next time run and get spray bee killer. Works like a charm and you do not have to dress like this. Fun as it is to see.

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