VOICES FROM THE FIRE: Harry McNabb

Mr. Socks and the Giant Bee

I decided, after I had seen a post on social media about “coming out day,” that I would make a pivotal decision about my sexuality for forever or for the time being.

I said to myself that if the boss called me in to his office in the next 30minutes I would announce that I was gay and start looking for a man to have sex with.

I have heard that it is not so hard to find a man to have sex with.

Men want it more. It’s sad if you’re a straight man, but not so sad if you’re a gay man. This was a large part of why I made this resolution.

So, I went back to work drawing pictures of cats and dogs for the military and when the PA said, “Mr. Socks, please report to Mr. Panthershit’s office, I thought to myself, “all right, time to find a man to fuck.”

The PA said for 5 other people to come to the office, too. I wondered if we were all fired. Perhaps, I thought, I would become gay and fired on the same day. That would be a turnip for the books.

Turnip for the books is better than saying turnup for the books because you imagine a turnip being given to more than one book. I imagine smiling cartoon faces on the turnip and the books in my mind when I say it.

I and 5 other men got up and went to Mr. Panthershit’s office on the other side of the floor. I looked at the other men walking with me. “Would I fuck them?” I asked myself.

We arrived in Mr. Panthershit’s office. Mr. Panthershit was a short man with glasses. He had a bucket underneath his chin to collect large amount of drool that was frothing out of his mouth. I did not judge. When I am really hungry, I drool like the dickens. Although I have never used a bucket? I wondered, where would I buy a bucket? I had never seen one at the grocery store. Maybe I just hadn’t looked hard enough for one.

“Gentleman,” said Mr. Panthershit, “I have just seen a creature on the television that I would like to eat. It is a giant meowing bee. It is six feet in diameter, and I have not been able to stop thinking about it since I saw it on the news 15 minutes ago and heard the enchanting meow that it emitted into the reporter’s microphone. I have summoned you here because I need one of you to catch it and give it to my cook, Emile. By tomorrow, I want a meal of bee. Please catch it for me and I will give you one thousand dollars. Now, be gone. Time is of the essence. Good day.”

We left.

The workday was a relatively painless piss in the pot, and I went home, wondering about which website I would use to find a man for me to have sex with. At that point, at the end of the day, I was not sure if I did want to fuck a man. I just knew that it would be easy, and I prefer to do easy things rather than hard things like try and get a girl to want to fuck me.

I was caught up in this maelstrom of conflicted feelings when I went onto my balcony to smoke a cigarette. I was smoking my cigarette and wasn’t really getting anywhere when I heard a voice in my head.

Hello! It said.

“Hello,” I said, not knowing who I was talking to.

I have come from Denmark because I am fully grown and want to see the world.

I looked up and saw a giant bee with a big friendly smile on its face.

“Meow,” it said.

“Are you the voice inside my head?” I asked

Yes, sir, the giant bee communicated to me, I can only communicate via telekinesis, sadly with only a small fraction of the world’s population, of which you are one! On the outside, I can only say “meow.”

“Meow,” said the bee.

“Ah, I see,” I said, “well, welcome to America, Bee. We’re pretty fucking dirty immoral people here. I think we should all kill ourselves, frankly.”

Oh no! You are not dirty and immoral at all! I have experienced many kind words and happy smiles from the people of this country! I could never think those horrible things about you at all!

“Well, get a load of this,” I said, lighting another cigarette, “my boss wants to eat you. He saw you on the news and he just told me to hunt you down and give you to his chef.”

That is not something I am comfortable with, but in the interest of good relations between the humans of America and the giant bees of Denmark I would not have a problem with sacrificing one of my six arms because I can regrow them.

“Like a starfish?” I said.

What is a starfish?

“I think you have barely scraped the surface on the wonders of the world outside Denmark,” I said.

I let the bee into my apartment, and we sat discussing the business of the world. I told it many great stories and it was enthralled. I have to say, it’s positive outlook on life and its naivety were greatly refreshing to me, and as I explained the different aspects of the world to it my own appreciation for those things grew.

However, it was getting late. I needed to go to sleep, but I didn’t want it to leave.

You are tired, said the bee, yet you do not want me to leave.

“Well, you guessed it,” I said.

Why don’t you let me stay and show you my wet hole.

“Meow,” said the bee.

“A wet hole? Is that what I think it is?”

A giant bee’s wet hole is a lovely present that we share with all creatures. When we make a person happy with our wet holes, we give birth to thousands of lovely giant bees with their own wet holes. Please, Mr. Socks. Will you try my wet hole?

I really liked this bee. This was one cool, awesome bee.

But I was not used to this, I was nervous. Still, I asked “bee, what is your name?”

XXXEFORfussMeAT30?, said the bee.

“XXXEFORfussMeAT30?, will you accompany me to my bed?”

The next morning, I woke up cuddling the warm fur of the giant bee. I wanted to take it out for a steak dinner that night. I knew, already, my eyes blinking the sleep off of my eyes, that I wanted to do that.

But how would I afford the steak dinner?

A lightbulb appeared above my head.

I could take the bee to my boss, the giant bee would let the chef, Emile, cut off part of its arm and I would get a thousand dollars.

“XXXEFORfussMeAT30?,” I said, “wake up! we need to go to my boss and get that grand.”

Okay, said the bee, do you think your boss will be okay with just eating part of my arm? It does regenerate, but the best meat is in my bosom.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine with it,” I said.

We walked to the bus stop and took the bus to my work. Because of the fact that I had a giant danish bee, everyone we met gave me approving smiles. I really liked this fucking bee.

We went into the office and all my coworkers were impressed.

“Man, you’re gonna make that thou,” they said, “way to go Mr. Socks!”

I was happy to the max.

I knocked on the door of Mr. Panthershit’s office. His chef, Emile opened the door.

Mr. Panthershit was still drooling into his bucket.

“Aha!” he said, “I knew that you wouldn’t let me down! Emile, sharpen the knives!”

“Well, Mr. Panthershit,” I said, “the thing is, you can’t eat the bee. You can only have a piece of it.”

“What?” said Mr. Panthershit, “But I want the whole thing! Stand aside, take your thousand dollars and begone! This bee is mine!”

“I won’t let you kill this bee,” I said, stepping in between Emile and the bee, “it is a wonderful creature! It is the first telekinetic species ever to develop on planet earth.”

“I don’t care if it can turn lead into gold,” said Mr. Panthershit, “I want it in my belly right now!”

“I’m afraid I can’t allow that,” I said, “I have become very attached to this bee.”

“Give me the bee or you’re fired,” said the little man, standing up.

“You’ll have to fire me then,” I said.

“Fine,” said Mr. Panthershit, “fuck off.”

The bee and I left. We did not exchange telekinetic messages all the way down the elevator and into the street.

I am so sorry, said the bee, hovering next to me as I stepped out on to the street, I didn’t want to make your life worse! I am so sorry!

“It’s okay,” I said, “we’re together so it doesn’t matter.”

It does matter, said the bee, I can’t cause trouble for other living beings. I absolutely cannot cause suffering. I must go.

The bee flew off.

“XXXEFORfussMeAT30?!” I said, “no! don’t leave me!”

But by the time I had uttered that sentence, the bee was already miles away.

I looked down at my socks dejectedly.

That’s why they call me Mr. Socks.

I don’t wear shoes. Only socks.

“Well, I guess I’m going to Denmark,” I said to myself.

If there was one takeaway from this sorry business, it was the realization that I was not sexually attracted to men or women. I was attracted to giant bees.

“Wet holes, here I come!” I said.

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