Jillian thought, “Forget the cup, even a half a cup of wine would be appreciated.” She would even take a wimpy white, like Chardonnay, but all she got was a little of her own nectar (seemed sort of cannibalistic) and all that pollen the bees left . . .
It was all you can eat, and the price was right, but the menu was somewhat limited–no pizza, chocolate, or beer, the building blocks for a balanced diet . . .
Angelina’s mother, the queen, had told Angelina while growing up, “Don’t expect too much, you’re just a worker bee; don’t think life is going to be a bed of roses.” Now Angelina wondered what else Mom had lied about. . .
Jerome knew his job was to get the pollen, but he much preferred open, flat flowers. Being claustrophobic, he didn’t like elevators, small cars, or the middle or window seat on an airplane either. As he prepared to dive in, he remembered that his therapist told him he was making progress, but sometimes you just had to face a fear head on . . .
Linda Lou was in a quandary. Should she get nectar from the pink or the white things on this flower? She liked to imagine that the pinks were strawberry and the whites French Vanilla, but where was the chocolate? . . . . . David, Sf.G.
The Mythbusters had done a program where bees were supposed to lift a honey-coated laptop, but the bees didn’t get it done–myth busted. Henry felt guilty; he had been one of the bees hired to do the job, but he’d been sidetracked by the delicious blackberry flowers and just lost track of time; maybe if he’d been there. . . . . David, Sf.G.
