Fear not, everyone! The bees are most assuredly not disappearing.
I have found them. They are in my house.
On Sunday afternoon, Bridgette and I returned from a short cabin retreat to find our basement window teeming with yellowjackets. This was in no way unnerving. I’ll level with you people, spending 30 minutes in longsleeves and a winter hat swatting and sucking up bees with a vaccuum cleaner wasn’t the most enjoyable thing I’ve ever done. A few hours later, another batch of those yellow-striped bastards popped up, but this time I was much less hesitant. Choosing to forego the protective wear, I blasted the bees back to hell with my berzerker attack, swirling in a counter-clockwise motion while snipping scissors and barking obscenities.
This was a tactical error on my behalf, and led to numerous stings across my upper body, including one directly into my left retina.
This morning, an elderly, pot-bellied exterminator visited our home and sprayed the yellowjackets to kingdom come. Hopefully I will return this evening to find a basement riddled with crunchy bee carcasses. I will then feed them to Ben Franklin, our cat, to increase his hit points and vitality.
See you in hell, bees.