Sting

Outside stands a little boy of about eleven years of age.  He is standing beside a lilac bush. 

It is a hot, humid, and sunny day.  Bees buzz all about the blossoms as the boy watches intently.

You know, of course, that you’re going to get stung.

No I won’t.

Yes you will.

No, I won’t.

Will.

Won’t.

Will!

Won’t!

Will!!!

Will not!

Oh, stop it!

‘Oh, stop it!’

I mean it . . .

‘I mean it!’

You little bastard!  I hope you get stung, then.

That’s not very nice.

Then listen to what I tell you . . .

            . . . What are you doing now?  Crying?

No!

Don’t deny it.  I just saw you wipe your eyes.  You’re crying, aren’t you?

Shut up.

Don’t tell me to shut up, young man.

. . . I hate you.

What was that?

Nothing.

Did you just say, ‘I hate you?’

No.

Look at me.  Turn your head and look at me!  Did you just tell me you hate me?

I . . . I’m . . . I’m sorry.

Oh, come here.  It’s OK.  I just worry about you, that’s all . . .

            . . . There, there, don’t cry.  I love you, Jimmy.

I love you, too.

Now be a good boy, and don’t touch the bees.

Wasps.

What’s that?

Wasps.  They’re wasps.  Paper wasps.

Well, whatever.  Bees.  Wasps.  You’ll get stung either way.  Please don’t pick them up.

But I’m not picking them up.  I’m catching them!

I don’t care what you call it, you shouldn’t be doing that.  You might get seriously hurt.

I won’t.

. . . What are you doing?

Shhhhhh!

You’re not doing what I think you’re doing!

Pleasssse, be quiet.  You’ll scare them away.

I should scare all of them away.  It’s for your own protection.

But if you scare them, then I really might get stung.

Then just leave them alone.

Shhh.  Watch.

Ohhh, I don’t like the looks of this.  I can’t watch.  We’re going to get stung!

Shhhhhh . . . gotchya!

                . . . Look!  Look what I caught!

Let it go!

Just open your eyes and look!  See?  It ain’t going no where. I got it by the wings. See it?  See?

Uh, huh.  What are you going to do with it now?

I’m gonna study it!

And then what are you going to do?

I’m going to let it go.

It’ll sting you. 

No it won’t.

You don’t think I wouldn’t sting you if you held me captive like that?

It’s not a person.  It doesn’t think that way!  When I let it go, it’ll fly off, scared. 

I don’t know about this.

Don’t worry.  I’ve done this before.  I haven’t gotten stung yet.

There’s always a first time.

You keep saying that.

Well what else to you expect me to say?

You always say the same thing, over and over again.

Ohhh, I do not.

Do too.

Not.

Too.

Not!

Too!

Why don’t you behave?

I do behave.  I just don’t do what you want me to do.

That isn’t behaving.

You sound just like her.

I am her.  Well, not her her, but I am her, kind of . . .

            . . . Well, actually I am you, but I’m her, too.  Sort of . . .

                        . . . What are you doing?

                                    . . . I said, ‘What are you doing?’

I’m not listening to you.

I heard you. 

I don’t care.

You should care!

I don’t care about anything . . .

                . . . I don’t even care about you.

                                    . . . You don’t love me?

No.  Not really.

Take it back.

I won’t.

You will.

Won’t.

Will.

Won’t.

Alright!  Be that way!

                                . . . Ohhh, I’m sorry.

Are you really?

                                . . . No.

I hate you.

I know.  I hate us, too.