#bee box

Hadley has been working in the new “garden” lately. There are bee boxes because why not I guess. They have a HUGE backyard and it maes me uncomfortable that there’s so much room.

This is Shu. Shu won’t shut up about the bee box. Shu lives in an apartment with no backyard.

So I filled his apartment with bees.

The TV is constantly on Pollinator pay-per-view. You touch the remote, you get stung.

Bees, bees, bees on a spree Bees, bees, bees while you pee

They’re always there. Watching you with their compound eyes. Judging you for your inability to regurgitate calorically dense non-Newtonian fluids.

Don’t try to escape by going into your other girlfriend’s room. Those bees are hers! Get your own!

Shu is one of thirteen main characters in a bleak existential comedy/drama. He used to represent the effects of emotional servitude and hypercreativity in a universe where it’s impossible to create anything truly new. From now on, he represents the effects of emotional servitude and hypercreativity in a universe where it’s impossible to create anything truly new and also his apartment is full of bees.

Here's one for you Dm's that want some trap loot that involves BEES!

Appearance: A red wedding ring box that has an anonymous hum coming from it. When opened there is a small slit for where the ring would be.

Description: This box of bees, made by a trickster, has bees come out of the ring slit at astounding speed. Per 7 seconds 100 bees can come out of the box, till it is empty. Each 50 bees can deal 1d4-1 damage. Having an AOE spell at the ready when opening this box, to deal with the absurd large amount of bees

Attribute: The box shots out 100 bees per turn till it deposits 1004 bees

Chad buys a bee box.

The box is locked, it is dangerous. I have to live with it overnight And I can’t keep away from it. There are no windows, so I can’t see what is in there. There is only a little grid, no exit.

I put my eye to the grid. It is dark, dark, With the swarmy feeling of African hands Minute and shrunk for export, Black on black, angrily clambering.

How can I let them out? It is the noise that appals me most of all, The unintelligible syllables. It is like a Roman mob, Small, taken one by one, but my god, together!

I lay my ear to furious Latin. I am not a Caesar. I have simply ordered a box of maniacs. They can be sent back. They can die, I need feed them nothing, I am the owner.

I wonder how hungry they are. I wonder if they would forget me If I just undid the locks and stood back and turned into a tree. There is the laburnum, its blond colonnades, And the petticoats of the cherry.

They might ignore me immediately In my moon suit and funeral veil. I am no source of honey So why should they turn on me? Tomorrow I will be sweet God, I will set them free.