PARLEZ-VOUS BEE?

Royal Beekeeper Didn’t Tell the Bees the Queen Died

Nobody knew

As you have probably heard, upon the Queen’s death, it is the job of the Royal Beekeeper to inform the bees of the Queen’s departure from Middle- Earth.

Royal Keeper, Buzzy B. Monarch, decided not to tell the bees. She did not make the seditious decision without due consideration. Buzzy needed to drink at least two bottles of Pimms to carry on with The Big Lie.

The Royal Bees are such drama queens, Buzzy told me. And with the Royal Bee Therapist being on sabbatical right now — well, I’m not trained to deal with the roller coaster of the Royal Bees' emotional landscapes. They could come at me. You ever heard of Kill The Messenger?

I had. It was the most overused phrase in the world and quite violent if anyone asked me — which they hadn’t.

How could I tell the bees? Buzzy cried. She was slurring now. The Royal Bartender had been pouring her a bottomless glass of Pimms after he’d been placed on Royal Refilling Duty, following the Queen’s death.

It was such a shock for all of us, Buzzy continued. The Queen’s death came out of nowhere and bees only live two to six weeks. I’m not ruining a week of bees' whole brief lives. I’m not a monster.

Buzzy, who had been tipping over, finally fell. The Pimms was hitting her hard now, like a Monarchy who would have to get used to saying the title King.

It still felt fake, like when you first get married and start saying “my husband” instead of my boyfriend, Chaz.

With bees’ terrible eyesight, Buzzy slurred, you gonna tell me they know the difference between King Charles was Queen Elizabeth anyway?

When I suggested maybe bees have a strong sense of smell, Buzzy spit a mouthful of Pimms into a teapot of Royal Petroleum Jelly.

Not to stereotype, she slurred, but these Royals all smell the same.

I eyed her suspiciously, wondering how she could know that.

How do I know that? She slurred. I’ve been a bee. Not for a while, but I was a bee when the Queen was a sprite of a girl, a twinkle in her father's eye —

I was shocked. I had heard from reliable sources that beekeepers were once bees, but it had never been verified. Until now.

And I stung her, that bratty little princess, Buzzy continued, yanking at a Royal Curtain off the Royal Gazebo in an attempt to stay standing.

I paused to consider Buzzy’s betrayal of her duties.

How are you going to get away with not telling the bees about the Queen? I asked. Someone will report you to the highest authorities. I was concerned for Buzzy’s future employment and maybe her head.

Jokes on them, Buzzy laughed, vomiting into a bowl of Royal Jelly. I’m the only one who speaks bee. I could say anything to those assholes.

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