I want you to know that I was stung by a bee in the middle of a parking lot, and now I am slightly angry. It landed on my neck and stung me, and then I slapped the hell out of it and it died. It was a big thing for me. My life is relatively boring and is only exciting when it involves violent behavior.

It came out of nowhere. My first reaction was, “Holy sh*t!” and then, “What just happened?” followed by, “God dammit, in a parking lot?!”

What are the chances of that?

WTF?!
It was momentous.

The Unlikelihood/Injustice
I feel completely cheated and taken advantage of by life and overly aggressive bees in general. Is fate intentionally trying to make me miserable? Is fate even a thing? Sometimes I feel like God doesn’t like me because I don’t go to church or because I hate Christianity and religion in general. I feel like a greater power is programming little bees to attack me, giving me slight neck pains, in retribution for stealing my sister’s money to buy school supplies in elementary school…among other things.

The Desire for Ridiculous Amounts of Empathy
I mention this bee ordeal because I want you to feel sorry for me. It’s an egotistical thing, really. You should be crying so badly, as if I were allergic to bees. I’m not...but still I want a healthy group sob about my horrific bee altercation and its mild pinprick of pain. I need your pity, and you better give it to me, dammit, or I will start crying because it sort of hurt…a little. Nobody else gets stung by bees in parking lots. It’s just me.

: ( Woe is me.

I want everyone to mourn for me like their favorite pet just died or somebody really important to them just died, and I want it to be way deep in your hearts and have it make your hearts ache, as if you have high blood pressure and are going to die soon. I would like to say I am strong and don’t need your pity to feel good about myself...but I kind of do. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside like petting a cat.

Self-aggrandizement for Getting Even with the Bee
I served the bee its due justice. All by myself. I must admit--I smacked the hell out of it. Impressive! When I finally saw it, it was lying dead in my hand, all smushed. I dropped its decrepit little body immediately because it was gross because it was an insect, an evil insect. It deserved it, and I’m a bad mother****er. I beat that sorry sucker to within an inch of its life and further. Lightning slap! Cheetah-like reflexes! Ka-boom! Whammo! Kursplat! Bam bam! (Second “bam” for emphasis.)

Bet that bee is sorry now!

Lastly...My Burdens/I’m Only Human
I know I smacked the **** out of that bee and that most people wouldn’t have been able to do that because they’re too wimpy. However, I want you to know that I, despite seeming very, very composed and confident and a good smacker, have burdens to bear and obstacles to overcome, just like everyone else (even if I dove on that bee like a rottweiler on a two year old). I may be tough, but not everything is alright and peachy for me. I have my heavy satchel of insecurities and broken memories, just like you...only mine are spectacularly gigantic. Like Einstein said, “Do not worry about your difficulties in mathematics; I can assure you that mine are still greater.”

Does It Even Really Matter?
Really, the event doesn’t even really matter anymore. It’s pretty insignificant. The mark barely shows on my neck, and the bee died anyway. So who cares? The bee didn’t do anything interesting during his last breaths and neither did I do anything interesting during my breaths when being stung, but…

...that doesn’t change the fact that I totally nailed that sucker!

Standing “ov!”