explodes, literally. this is what happens to a male honey bee after copulating successfully with the singular fat bitch of the colony.
it all starts with the on air scramble. about 25,000 of these drones would scamper after the queen bee. and if one of them succeeds - what are the odds? - in seeding the queen, then in a blaze of glory, the lucky male honey bee just explodes, no metaphors here, its disintegrated body parts literally falling down to earth.
but not its penis, though. as a last attempt to seal its dubious accomplishment, the sated but dead drone plugs behind its buzzing phallus inside the queen bee's vagina, a sort of jealous man's, or rather, a jealous drone's chastity belt.
today, with the air in my apartment still reeking of burnt electrical circuitry like a gnawing conscience, i decided to come clean with my girl friend from work.
i told her i was in love, too, with her boo to be. well, not in such a fashion, really. i just told her the pinoy hunk she was hankering for is aight. aight as in not just alright but supah fine.
she took one look at me and said sista, back off. you don't want me to go ghetto on you.
then we laughed so hard, snorting out chunks of hormone altered beef we were scarfing down in the burger king joint nearest her place.
today, too, i saw my first spring bee. well, a mini swarm of them really, droning over a leaking trash bag in front of an italian bakery two buildings down mine.
as spring nears, i am becoming grateful again that i am human as opposed to say apian, perhaps. i mean, i do have my mating problems, to say the least. but the odds of me getting it on with somebody are more sanguine than the poor drone. a quarter of a hundred thousand to one. it's like hitting the power ball.
on the other hand, the lazy bum never does a thing in the hive except obsess with porking the fat bitch. well, win some, lose some.
so after i had this horrible secret excavated out of my chest, my girl friend matter of factly told me she just lost the jones for the pinoy hunk. talk about a real, flaky bitch.
why? my voice dripping with optimism. like i have a chance with that guy. she told me that a day after the party fiasco, the guy called her up.
and you did not tell me this? i asked, feeling very proprietary of my people, my gorgeous people.
without any joy in her voice, she then confided that, without any ruses this time, she invited over the pinoy hottie. then, everything she planned happened in no time at all. about 20 minutes of no time, including the 18 minutes of foreplay.
oh, i said, in my lame attempt at genuine commiseration. for my girl friend needed that. nothing brings down a girl than the rude realization that the man she's been aching for doesn't have what it takes to bring on the pain, the sweetest of pains.
at least, he's gorgeous, i told her. she looked at me without saying anything. i know, baby, you can't go to bed with gorgeous, I told her.
in the end, when straits are dire in the hive, them lazy ass drones can just be driven out, just like that.
going home, i walked with trepidation as i passed by the building where the pinoy hunk lives.
of all the things i needed to see today, the sight of someone incinerated, its important appendage hacked, could drive me to foreswear the natural world, vital, teeming with life, leaving me stuck in my autistic hive cramped with artifices of desiccated and inelegant tropes.