I was sitting around the other day. Just standing
smoking a cigarette. Not doing anything at all. When out of the blue, BAM! A large man-lady of hippopotamus proportions ambled right in the line of fire of my smoke exhalation. Then the dumb bitch has the audacity to make that phony coughing sound - as if she couldn't be more discreet.
So I grabbed Ms. Load by the arm and insisted, "If killer bees come to attack us, you're gonna' die bitch! But I'll still be puffin the grit you ambiguous colossus!" Okay, no I didn't. But I really wanted to.
Damn, at least let me explain. I was watching the Discovery channel a long time ago. There was this special on beekeepers and how they keep themselves from being stung by two thousand and three pissed-off bees. In the program they enlightened a commonly used tactic to keep the bees serene: smoke. You see, most insects can't breathe in smoke, so naturally, smoke sends them flying away like Anne Heche with a sock full of heterosexuality. But get this: HUMANS CAN BREATHE IN SMOKE! EVEN CIGARETTE SMOKE! AND WE DON'T HAVE TO FLY AWAY!
It's as true as the Marlboro man is. You know who he is, right? That badass cowboy who has nothing better to do than chill out on the ranch and smoke Reds. What a cool cat! He makes me want to put on some rawhide chaps, a nice Stetson hat and some Old Spice deodorant so that I can sit on a wooden fence and watch the cattle graze. And maybe, if I'm a patient enough cowboy, I'll get so see a couple gay steers do the horizontal hobble.
Where seldom is heard a discouraging
So word around the campfire is that bees can't breathe in smoke. But it's more than just idle talk - it's true. That's why beekeepers use smoke. Have you learned nothing? The beekeepers also wear protective clothing. Giant welding masks, Kevlar body suits, shell-toed Adidas and Victoria Secret panties for the comfort. They're dealing with deadly insects you know!
Nutso #1: Egad Dwayne! I'm all out of smoke!
Nutso #2: Thank God I have these cigarettes!
Nutso #1: Yay! Cigarettes saved the day!
Thank you Ziff Davis!
Nutso #2: I think you mean Philip Morris.
I could talk about bees and cigarettes all day! Like this one time I went out on my porch to get some fresh air and I ended up sitting on a big fat hairy bumblebee. It stung me right in the ass flesh and it really hurt. My butt was numb and soon after sported a large welt the size of Princess Di's tombstone.
And another time I was catching lightning bugs at night when I accidentally, coincidentally and inadvertently (not to mention unintentionally) snatched a bee. It was a catastrophe. After it ate all the lightning bugs in the jar, it turned on me and stabbed my eyebrow with its ass-skewer (scientific name is 'STINGER'). I looked as though someone had whacked me in the face with a giant bee.
Luckily, I don't have any reactions to bee stings. But my neighbor did. His mom wouldn't let him out of the house in the summer for fear that a disgruntled bee might sting him.
"Fuck that Queen whore! Roll up another ball of wax? Screw that! I'm going to go out hara-kiri style," said the disgruntled bee. And then I imagine that my neighbor would have peered his pale visage between the screen door for the first time and then BAM! Smarted in the neck by a peeved
insectazoid aggressor! That was cool. Well, it never actually happened, but it would have been cool. And if it did, this is what it would look like:
When a honeybee stings, it pumps poison into its victim from its bulging sac. That sounds really gross, or really sexy. I can't decide. But it hurts. And not in the good way like the sexy way implies.
But anyway, bees don't like smoke. So most beekeepers use smoke to keep the bees away. Some people even use liquid smoke. But many professional beekeepers steer away from this tactic because the substance is somewhat like hair spray and it clogs the nozzle. Turns out a few beekeepers came up missing. That's funny, too.
So I figured that smoking cigarettes would lessen my chances of being killed by bees. So don't rap to me that I will die from smoking because I will reply by saying, "No. You will die when the bees come." Then you'll look at me all retarded.
I promise that if I'm smoking and you come up and feign a cough or insinuate that second-hand smoke is depleting your health, I WILL PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE! Or, for your own health, stay the fuck away from smokers when they are smoking. It's common sense. It's not like we can smoke inside restaurants anymore. And if we can we're forced to sit in a room with a box fan and bars on the windows.
Most smokers are considerate. We don't blow it in your face any more than you flaunt that greasy cheeseburger in front of vegans.
Come to think of it, I just might keep a jar full of bees in my pocket. When someone says something to me or waves their hand in front of their face whilst panting their tongue, I will violently shake the jar of bees. The aggravation will build and then I'll open the top and continue smoking as they sting you to death - just like that little boy in "My Girl," except you probably look nothing like Macaulay Culkin.
So you just sit there all happy and free while we serve our master behind an immure of stockade-like surroundings.
I am a smoker and I know that when I'm deserted by a beehive in Africa that I will have fortification in the form of cancer sticks. So when you've got a population of rascally creepy crawlers on your ass don't come begging me for a cigarette! I'll be too busy laughing maniacally while you're suffering mastication from a cloud of KILLER BEES!
After writing this piece, McClain went out to see if smoking
could also ward off crocodile attacks. Now we all just point and
laugh at him and call him 'stumpy'.