#56: That's your horoscope, for today

Vagabond on Oct. 29, 2006

So I'm sitting at a bus stop, incidentally waiting for a bus, when a bully approaches. Now, this isn't a “I'm actually just a really fat 10 year old” bully or a “In 10 years, your tax dollars will be paying for my sedatives” bully. This is the worst kind of bully there is.

A yellow jacket.

The thing lands on my pant leg, and starts wandering around the landscape known as my flesh. I try shooing it, but to no avail. After all, “getting stung by a bug” wasn't exactly high on my to-do list today, so all I really could do was try to picture myself in a happy place as if I were some stripper getting felt up by a big guy named Tony. Not that I know how that feels or anything, or that I frequently frequent strip clubs to proclaim my love for Cupcake but… ok, back on topic.

Eventually, the little bugger starts climbing into my pocket. This is where I draw the line. This little thing hasn't even bought me dinner, and he's trying to slide into third base. That doesn't fly, bucko. I'm not about to let myself get abused by something named after tacky clothing! If I didn't do something now, what was next? Getting pushed around by polkadot pantaloons? Having to give my lunch money over to spandex stockings!? I had to stop this, and I knew that there was only one way to do it.

I began rocking my waist back and forth, while thrusting my right hand into my other pocket to protect my manhood from eventual stinging.



… Consequently, “Why yes Sir, there is a bee in my pants… and I'm happy to see you.” is not the best way to greet your bus driver.