I stepped on a bee.

I haven’t done it in a while, but here is a reworked post, especially prepared for Newcastle night (4) copy. Please enjoy, but remember, always in moderation.

Ah dad...

I’m guilty of homicide. Or maybe manslaughter, as it didn’t happen on purpose.  I wouldn’t harm a fly…wait…I would.  I would crush those annoying flying vermin in a heartbeat.  But I never meant to hurt the bee.  It’s not my fault I stepped on an insect with suicidal tendencies. Besides he might be dead, but I was stuck with the discomfort of a swollen foot and rigid toe, that became an exact replica of a thick vienna.

Like most tragedies, it happened unexpectedly.  A perfect summer’s day.  The sky was cobalt blue, and the sun was playing hide and seek behind puffs of cotton ball clouds scattered across the sky.  The butterflies were dancing amongst the flowers and even the ants stopped working to bask in the smiling sun.  I know, for I was playing outside with the kids, passing a rugby ball.

Son decided to show us some “trick passes”, which just became ingenious ways of throwing the ball on the ground.  It spend significantly more…

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I won't bite, I promise...

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