The Philosophic MelliferaSubmitted by Soyware at 2010-07-15 15:27:56 EDT
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Once there was a bee who was gifted with intelligence far greater his companions. Every day he and his brothers worked the same task: seek sugar and bring it to the hive. His brothers were immune to the monotony of their lives through their lack thoughts beyond the mechanical, animal instinct, but this bee was beyond impulses, and far from bored.
Every day he would ponder something new while he scoured the land. "Why does this flower look this way? Has it always looked this way? Has it always been here? Could it be that these flowers changed over time? Is that why there are so many different kinds? Have we changed over time?"
He pondered that the attractive, florescent glow of most flower petals was a way of catching the eye of bees like himself. Surely flowers that, long long ago happened to have that feature would get the most traffic, resulting in fields upon fields of the same trait.
But what of bees from other hives? Could they see it too? His hive wasn't particularly populated; what if other hives could do things like smell a flower from miles away? "Perhaps," he thought to himself, "over the ages, they've happened to develop ways of finding flowers that I can't even imagine!" Sometimes he would lose himself in thought for hours, both literally and figuratively. One day this led him to a mountain.
"If this side holds so many wonders, then surely the other side must hold just as many," he thought. He quivered with excitement, causing himself to drift toward a tunnel. At first he was wary of the dark interior, but he spotted a light in the distance.
"Well, being short of sight like all insects are, I should take this tunnel so as not to get lost on my journey into the unknown." With that short re-assurance, he bolted forward, almost giddy with anticipation.
But something was wrong. Even though he was flying full bore towards the light, it was getting closer a little too fast. That's when he noticed the noise. A chugging, whirring, squeaking, grinding filled with impending doom and getting louder every second.
"Oh what cruel irony!" lamented the bee. "The light at the end of the tunnel is a train! What will become of my ideas? Have I lived my life for nothing? Will there ever be another to ponder and dream as I have?"
The last thing to go through the bees mind as he hit the wind shield...
...was his ass.
BA DUM PSH!