I watched a bee on the bus. Noone noticed, looking at their toys. One guy, tablet open, all but looking at it. I watched it land on a collar, then fake readers jacket, fly around some more, disappear, landing on a sleeping mans hand with a "be happy" tattoo. He swatted it down. I watched the bee crawl. It got on my shoelace, jumped off, appearing injured from the landing after being swatted. I was thinking what was that bee thinking? I wish I could just start swatting humans around to the ground. I had a chance to kill it but wouldn't do that even paid a large sum of money or given some oral sex. Only a very ruthless and sadistic person can just plain kill something without remorse, without hesitation of ending a life. All just from a fear of a bug crawling around on them. Poor bee couldn't even prepare for the force of a swat or see the impact of the ground coming. Then a madman boarded the bus, ordered the driver to plummet us off the Morrison bridge into the cold harsh Willamette. So upon leaving the bus, I didn't see the bee, wondering where it went. On me? On fake readers backpack? This was its last known location. So the moral is, that's how you pass things around. How did the bee get on the bus in the first place? I doubt it just flew in. Like spreading crabs, mules smuggling drugs, the time I brought a large creepy spider in the house on the "This Week" paper. That's how shit spreads. The other moral. Don't kill. Then notice the details. Wear protection too.