Posted by: husbandandfatheroffour | November 14, 2013

My Wife’s Worst Nightmare Comes True

I am at work sitting at my desk when the phone rings.  I can hear some heavy, out-of-breath breathing.  I knew it was my wife because of the caller I.D. but what I didn’t know was that she was going through her own worst personal nightmare (aside from being on a bridge when it collapses).  It was the horror movie she always feared coming to life right in front of her eyes.  It was, Attack of the Killer Bee!  Yes her movie only needs one bee.

For the first few seconds there was nothing but the breathing.

“Hello.” I said again.

“I am having a panic attack!” My wife said in a soft whisper.

“What is going on?” I asked.

“Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah, oh my god!  It is going to get me” is all I hear as she screams, stumbles around, and things go crashing to the floor.  Then I can hear her running and then the door slams.

“What is gong on?” I ask.

Again talking in a whisper and out of breath she tells me, “I am panicking!  It is after me.  I tried to hit it against the window but the plastic is soft and it didn’t kill it.  It chased me into our bedroom.  I looked into its eyes and it is evil!”

“What are you talking about and why are you whispering?” I asked her.

“There is a HUGE bee out there and it is mad, very mad at me.  I tried to kill it but it didn’t work and now it’s chasing me around the house.  It wants revenge!  I think it might even want my soul! ” She explains scared out of her mind.

“It is not chasing you.” I told her.  “It is just flying around trying to avoid being killed.  You can’t show it fear.  It is like Jeepers Creepers and it will feed off of your fear and come after you.  You have to be strong and unafraid.  Just be all casual-like and act like it isn’t even there and then when it least expects, WHAM! You whack it.”

“Oh no, I can’t go back out there.  It is right outside our bedroom door.  I can hear it flying around.  Buzz, buzz, buzz.  It wants to sting me, I know it.  In fact I am pretty sure it wants to bury its stinger so deep into me that I will never be able to get it out.  It will be a constant reminder of what happened, just like Harry Potter and his scar” She explains in a fearful voice.

Trying not to bust out laughing I tell her, “It is not outside the door waiting on you.  Just go out there.  If you want to find it, then look at all the windows.  That is where it is probably at.  It just wants to go outside.  As it is busy trying to fly through the glass then you can sneak up on it and swat it.”

“I’m too scared.” She tells me.  “BEE, are you out there?” she asks through the door, as if the bee is actually going to answer her.

“O.K., I don’t hear anything so I am opening the door.” She tells me as you can hear the door starting to creak in the background.  “Ah, ah, ah, ah,” she yells as I can hear more things breaking and crashing to the floor.

“What?” I eagerly ask.

After a few deep breaths she proceeds to tell me, “It was nothing.  A piece of my hair flew in my face and I saw my life flash before my eyes.  I was pretty sure it was the bee so I swung my arms around like a crazy lady hoping to scare it away but it just kept chasing me never moving from that spot.  Then I realized it was just a piece of my hair.”

“So why are you freaking out then?” I sarcastically asked her while laughing.

“Because at any minute it could pop out of nowhere, stinger out and ready, and fly into my hair and then I would be dead.  Do you even care about my well being?  Can’t you come home and kill it?” She was seriously asking.

“You know I can’t.  Call your dad and see if he will come in and kill it.” I suggested.

She agrees and hangs up so that she can call her dad.  A few minutes go by and my phone rings again.

“He is not home!  OMG he is not home.  I called grandma to see if he was there and he wasn’t there either.  She offered to come kill it for me but there is no way I am letting her come kill this bee.  That would be embarrassing and I would rather lose to the bee then have my 88 year old grandma come and kill it for me.” She stated.

Laughing I asked, “And this is not?”

Then she screams, “There it is in the bathroom window!  It is huge.”

“See I told you that it would be in a window.  It just wants outside.” I explained to her again.  “Now sneak up on it and kill it.”

“AAAAAHHHHH! You son of a, AAAAHHHH, what the hell?” she screams over the phone.  I can hear the curtain rod fall to the ground.  I can hear the fly swatter smacking the window at a rapid fire rate.  For some reason I even hear the toilet flush.

“Did you get it?” I asked excitedly.

“NO!  It ended up being just fly.  It scared me though.  I know that bee is hiding somewhere just waiting to pounce on me.  BEEE?  Are you there bee?” she softly whispers and asks again.

I am laughing at the fact that she first freaked out over a fly and is now talking to the bee like it will answer her back again.  I am also laughing because this whole time the panic in her voice was as if there was an intruder in the house and not a one inch bumble bee.  With every turn of the corner she lets out a little yell like it had jumped out at her.  I know if I asked her she would describe the bee as 5 ft. tall with a stinger that was 2 ft. long.

Then all of the sudden I hear, “psssh, psssh, psssh,” along with the sound of the fly swatter flying through the air.  All of this is on top of her screams.  More psssh and whooshing sound kept coming.  It seemed like it was a good minute this lasted.

Then at last the yell of victory, “Ah Ha!  I finally got that giant sucker.  You are dead now!  What? What?  You ain’t so bad bee!  YOU AIN’T SO BAD!”

Happy for her that she was able to kill the be on her own without having to give in and call her grandmother back I asked, “What the heck was that Pssshing sound?”

“Oh that was Hairspray.  I think I used half a can of it.”  She explained as if I was supposed to know why she used hairspray in the fight against the bee.

“What was that for?” I curiously asked.

“I was trying to drown it.  I was hoping the fumes would get to it and it would fall to the ground where I could then squash it.  But instead it slowed it down just enough that I was able to hit it with the fly swatter.”  She happily explained.

Below is a picture of the 5 ft. bee with the 2 ft. stinger (which my wife fortunately placed a penny beside to show how “huge” it was).  After seeing this picture I am glad she was able to kill it when she did because I don’t think she could have held out much longer against this monster killer bee.  Only my wife can make killing such a bee so fun and entertaining.

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