Flying Godless Killing Machines

Recent events have forced me to be prudent. I know what you’re thinking, “Action Steve, what power on Earth could force you to do anything?” Well faithful reader (singular), I will tell you. Bees. That’s right, wasps, bees, any yellow/black small flying object. They are my one great weakness. I share this with great trepidation. It is, as I’m sure you are aware, unwise to reveal weakness in a space where enemies could conceivably read them.

You may notice that these musing have not been added to for nearly two years. During the space of that time I have been deep in thought. While sitting atop my dark throne in my hall carved, nay hewn, from dark obsidian I was enjoying an evening meal. There are naturally throngs of admirers who gather around me to witness, observe and bask in the radiant glory that is my awesomeness. One of them must have been careless when entering my obsidian hall (which you will recall was hewn). A bee landed upon my tasty beverage as I was about to take a sip of it. Given my weakness, I freaked right the heck out. Needless to say my number of admirers has greatly diminished since what we will now call the incident. Because I happen to like having throngs of people looking at me with tender awe in their eyes, I feel I should explain myself.

It was not 3 years ago when I was first attacked by one of those yellow jacketed hooligans. I had taken a job delivering messages about town as action work was not in high demand at the time. I had decided that, as the summer months were upon us, I would relax a bit and wear open-toed sandals as I went from place to place. This was my first mistake. Those who know me well will attest to the fact that I now rarely wear anything other than a shoe made of solid cast iron. Uncomfortable? Yes, but also bee proof.

At any rate, I was leisurely walking about enjoying the beautiful air, warm weather and sweet breeze that kissed my slightly perspiring face when out of nowhere calamity struck. A giant uber-bee had flown into my open-toed sandal and latched itself onto my middle toe. I naturally assumed it wanted to be closer to my awesomeness and paid it no mind. Moments later it had sunk it venom tipped appendage into the tip of my toe with what can only be described as a religious fervor. It withdrew and then, to my shock, sunk its cruel barb into my toe yet again. It went on like this for several minutes. My screams of pain and rage went unheeded. When the evil insect was done raising my blood venom content to a very respectable .08, I fell to the ground in shock. I called my nearest friend who laughed at my pain, clearly happy to see me in a more human position than I am accustomed to. I persuaded her to drive me home where I tended my wound and nurtured my plan for vengeance.

My plan for vengeance involves a flower killing death ray, a small amount of plutonium, a bomb big enough to destroy the sun, and an extra large bag of Cheetos. I won’t bother you with the details, suffice it to say, when my plan has been put into action you will know it, no matter where on Earth you happen to find yourself.

I tell you this because I am confident that now that you have all been presented with the evidence of my psychological torture, you will agree it is most understandable that I would squeal a little bit every time I see one of those flying godless killing machines.

You may recommence thinking I’m awesome.

~Action! Steve