Frog Applause by Teresa Burritt for April 16, 2017

Some counterattack! The flies aren’t dropping like flies.

And we got a real pressure cooker going on here at the workie up wiffle ball game. Seems everyone is up in arms and really swingeing the wiffle bat tonight. Here’s the play at the plate and I think he’s going to make it, yes , wait , STOP RIGHT THERE, I got to know right now will you love me forever…

Bees in the walls. Every community has them, always buzzing and collecting pollen. Oh, and their last defense is being nice, and don’t you know it just kills them to do so.

I can’t get rid of those pop ups, dang…

Where are the lightsabers?

All wiffle bats are equal, but some are more equal than others.

…don’t get bees in your Easter bonnet…

… Cleveland has its mayflies, so this must be Cincinnati…

… my toddler son son hit me in the eyebrow with a wiffle bat, cut me wide open…

…had to use a butterfly bandage…

…see what I did there…

…what no dashed lines following where the bees have been?…

… what?!? Meatloaf, again!?!….

They’ve left the wiffle balls, who would appear to have a legitimate grievance, to fend for themselves.

Be cautious of the release of their wiffle balls, the effect of being hit by them from above will cause a stinging sensation..

Two of these creatures are different from the others. Hmm. Driving the herd to do their dirty work?

Where’s my badminton racket? I used to be a pretty mean Bird-Killer (maybe even on a par mutatis mutandis with Fenimore Cooper’s Deerslayer, he of many aliases, Natty Bumppo), and with fine enough mesh could wreak havoc upon that winged armada….

We were down to our last box of wiffle bats. And the bees kept coming. For centuries, there had been peace with the bees, but now, without warning, they attacked. The wiffle bat factories had been quiet for decades. Too late, we realized they were only waiting until our wiffle bat stockpiles were low, and our pollen abundant. It was a slaughter. We held out as long as we could, but ultimately, we failed. They made off with as much pollen as they could carry as we impotently waved our battered wiffles at nothing.

Our prayers to Saint Therese, the little flower, were lost to the wind. Lost, abandoned and fatally battered, we gave in to despair and wilted. But we kept inside a growing resolve to return again and have our vengeance. We were beaten, ended. But roots go deep and the seeds of our discontent were created in the attack. We would return.

@Sisyphos - Different! Different, you say? Is that some kind of apiphobic buzzdown? Tolerance is the key, my dear sir. Do not let your Apoidea prejudices rule you. Allow some room for nature’s differences among the swarm. How would you feel if your left wing was misshapen or you had three antennae instead of two? Bees have enough to worry about battling wiffle ball attacks and competing for foraging sites with their nemesis Bombus hortorum, a bumblebee species. I hope I am not wasting my words on a closed-minded nincompoop. Learn to live in the inclusive world of today!

Getting hit by NERF™ material is the absolute worst..

I have Nerfing to say.

Enerfs Enerfs