The Bee Keeper

DA3B1799-6DA9-4BF3-B9CC-C2E0F2AE108EThere once was a carpenter who was constructing a new hive for his honey bees. He was always fascinated by honey bees. They live such an orderly and well-functioning life. They are social insects that live together in large, well-organized family groups.

Honey bee colonies house worker bees, drones, and the queen. Each member of the colony has a definitive task to perform. And survival and reproduction take the combined efforts of the entire colony. Individual bees cannot survive without the support of the colony. It was a marvel of practicality and efficiency.

Unlike the chaotic society in which he and his fellow human beings lived, he thought, which is the model of a dystopian society.

Written for today’s Three Things Challenge, where the things are carpenter, dystopian, and honey bee.


CB14B430-5444-40A4-9239-9DDA097F89CDThe kids loved their grandfather, who they called “Pop-Pop.”

I was worried when he moved into our house after his wife died. I wasn’t sure how Jack and I and the kids would adjust to having a grumpy, old curmudgeon that was Jack’s father in our home. And how would the old man tolerate the chaos that two rambunctious rugrats could generate?

But Pop-Pop really surprised me. He was a pure delight to have around. He wasn’t at all the bitter old man I thought he was. He went out of his way to be funny for the kids and they adored him. And he was so appreciative that we made a home for him in our house.

“What was your favorite memory about Pop-Pop?” I asked the kids.

“It was how he would always roast pumpkin seeds for us on Saturday mornings,” Eddie said.

“It was when he’d come downstairs in the morning wearing his shorts and would have on one black sock and one white sock,” Edie said. “That was so silly.”

“I bet, now that he’s in heaven,” Eddie said, “he’ll be roasting pumpkin seeds for God and making him smile and laugh all the time.”

Written for today’s Three Things Challenge from Teresa. Today’s three things are grandfather, pumpkin seed, and white sock.

Run for Your Life

8dfd3d9c-ecee-410d-8623-8f7f49f77245-18206-00000be8e04fe5b5“You need to stop staring at him,” Seth said.

“Have you no soul?” Carol cried. “He’s standing out there in the pouring rain. He’s begging for us to let him.”

“No, we can’t let him in,” Seth insisted. “He’s diseased. He has the infection and if we let him in, he will kill us.”

“What happened to him?” Carol asked.

“When he was in the Maui six months ago, he was attacked by a puffer fish,” Seth explained. “Not many people realize that the puffer fish has a stronger bite than a piranha. Plus, they are poisonous and there is no known antidote.”

“But he obviously didn’t die from the poison,” Carol said. “So what’s wrong with him?”

“The poison didn’t kill him, but it infected his brain,” Seth said. “It made him insane and violent. He killed his wife last month and now he goes around biting people and infecting them, turning those he bites into zombie-like creatures.”

“Seth,” Carol screamed. “He’s pounding on the window! It’s starting to break.”

Seth grabbed Carol’s hand. “Run, Carol, run for you life.”

Written for Teresa’s Three Things Challenge. The three things are puffer fish, soul, and staring.

Polar Bears and Sea Horses

BA83F930-21BB-4FCC-B020-DA8AAA7D2117“But the polar ice caps are melting,” Alex said. “We need to do something to save those poor, starving polar bears, Dad.”

“I don’t know what we can do,” Dan said, “other than to contact our congressmen and tell them that climate change is real.”

Father and son continued walking along the isolated stretch of beach when Alex felt something cut into the sole of his foot. He removed his sandal and saw the spiky skeleton of a tiny sea horse. He picked up the sea horse’s remains and started to cry.

“Alex, why are you crying?” Dan asked.

“I’m crying for the polar bears and the sea horses and what we’re doing to our home,” he said.

Wrirren for today’s Three Things Challenge from Teresa. The three things are sandal, polar ice cap, and sea horse.

Pirate Booty

E5E4ACC0-5103-4A30-9FAD-93CD28FD83A1“Aargh, matey,” Roger said. “The wench is cold as an iceberg. I need my booty but I can’t get her to put out.”

“Are you taking about Molly?” Dean asked.

“Aye,” Roger said. “If things don’t change, I’m going to have to toss her overboard.”

“Have you ever considered that it might be because you’ve taken this whole pirate motif a bit too far?” Dean said.

“Shiver me timbers, that’s mutinous words, matey,” Roger snapped. “Do you want to walk the plank?”

“Listen, dude,” Dean said. “I know your band is called Captain Hook and the Jolly Rogers. You have a Jolly Roger decal on the back of your guitar and you dress up like Captain Cook when you and the band perform.”

“Aye,” Roger said. “So your point is what?”

“Well,” Dean said, “is it really necessary for you to stay in character even when you’re not performing? The tricorn hat, the bandana, the eye patch, the fake hook on your hand, the rubber cutlass and scabbard, the black boots. It’s too much, Roger.

“Avast swabby,” Roger said. “It’s who I am.”

“No, Roger, you’re an accountant who plays in a band on weekends at a local dive bar,” Dean said. “You’re a freak and I’m surprised Molly even gave you the time of day, much less went out on a date with you.”

“Ahoy, buccaneer,” Roger said. “You need to batten down the hatches or I’ll set you adrift and turn you into shark bait.”

“I give up,” Dean said, throwing both of his hands into the air. “Good luck with Molly.”

Writtne for today’s Three Things Challenge from Teresa. The words are Jolly Roger, guitar, and iceberg.