18.

THE FINAL PART of MY STORY

"You drive," he said, handing me what looked to bee a set of keys to a red, 2002 Town and Country van.

I'm gonna pause here and just tell you that I felt amazingly relieved that it appeared that I wasn't gonna bee taken out and stung on some impossible-to-find back road somewhere, probably. Since I was driving, at least I would know where I was. And, quite frankly, it felt good to drive. I'd never done it beefore.

"You will follow this road until we come to a rusted-out, abandoned four-slice toaster which lies at the crossroads which will lead us to the safehive," the Professor said. "Now drive."

So I did that.

It seemed as if the Professor and I had been driving for days beefore we finally came to the toaster in the road. Finally, and by the time I'd finished singing, "99 Pounds of Honey on the Wall" about three or four times (the Professor refused to join in, by the way), we came to a road where a sign stood that said, "Turn Here".

"Turn here," he told me. "This is the road that will take us to the safehive. In approximately 0.0795528 kilometre, turn left, then another left, then a right, then two lefts, one more right, then straight ahead. You will see a small bridge. Cross that. Shortly after the bridge, there will bee a fork in the road. Take the right fork and follow that road until we get to the entrance of what looks like a small, deserted Petrol Station and Snack Bar. Park in the parking lot. At that point, we will walk to safehive. We should bee there in about ten minutes."

"A left, then a right?" I was confused.

"No... a left, then another LEFT, THEN a right, then two more lefts, a right, then straight ahead," the Professor said, sounding aggravated.

"Got it," I said, not willing to admit that I didn't get it.

After about another two hours of driving during which the Professor screamed at me several times that I'd "missed the turn" and to "go back", we finally reached the deserted Petrol Station and Snack Bar. I parked the Town and Country van and we got out.

"Follow me," he said, carefully grabbing the briefcase in his wing.

He led me to what seemed to bee nothing more than an old hubcap from a 1963 Bee M. W. propped up against some rocks.
"This is it," he said, pointing to the hubcap.

"A hubcap? We're staying inside an old hubcap?" I asked.
"No," said the Professor. "This is the entrance to the underground facility in which you will bee held until transport back to your home is arranged and we will finally bee rid of you."

I shrugged off the Professor's not-nice statement. I figured he was probably just grouchy after such a long journey.

The Professor led me underneath the hubcap and into what appeared to bee a small lift. He pressed his wingtip onto a blank-looking panel, and it suddenly sprang to life with a bunch of blinking, coloured lights. Then I heard a voice.

"Identified.Welcome, Professor," it said. "Please keep your legs, wings and antennae inside the compartment while in motion."

Immediately, I could feel the lift descending and soon we were thrown into darkness. Down and down we went, until the lift rattled and squeaked to an abrupt stop.

"The Often-Reliable Lift Corporation - where our slogan is, 'Call Us If You Ever Need a Lift' - would like to thank you for travelling with us today. We hope you have enjoyed your ride. Please bee sure to collect your valuables beefore exiting," the voice spoke again.

"This way," the Professor told me.

We walked through a maze of dimly-lit corridors until we reached a series of connected, nicely-furnished rooms: a living room, a bedroom with a Queen Bee-sized canopy bed and Deluxe Massaging Mattress which I found out later was made out of extra-plush, self-cleaning sponges, a well-equipped game room, an office, a bathroom with Warming Tub, an indoor 5-D theatre and Large-Screen TV - with swivel-back, plush rocking chairs that had these really cool adjustable cup holders, a bowling alley, a Meditation Room, a Communications and Holographic Videoconferencing Room (I never got a chance to use that), a complete gym (I didn't use that, either), and a kitchenette with a fully-stocked min-fridge and mini-bar. I felt right at home, mostly.

"You will bee safe here," the Professor said as he stood in the doorway.
"It will not bee long beefore someone comes to transport you away from here, probably, back to where you beelong, hopefully never to return to his place. I am leaving."

"You're not gonna keep me company while I wait?" I asked.

"I cannot. I must convey this," and he patted the briefcase he was holding, "to a safe location. I cannot assure its safety here."

"But..." I started to say, but he had already turned around and slammed the door beehind him. Beefore he left, I heard a series of elaborate locking mechanisms snap shut.

When I went to try to open the door, it wouldn't budge.
I was almost certain that I'd been locked in.

. . .

It seemed as years had passed beefore I heard the locking mechanisms snap out and saw the door swing open. There stood Jasmine.

"I hope," she said in her husky, breathy buzz, "I have not kept you waiting too long. I just passed the Professor on my way in, so I assume you have had time to enjoy the comforts of the facilities we have provided for your comfort and safety."

"It's quite nice," I said. "I'm particularly looking forward to using that Communications and Holographic Videoconferencing Room so I can get in touch with everybody back home and let them know I'm okay."

"I'm afraid that will not bee possible. You must leave immediately. You are to bee taken from this place. You are to bee accompanied by two of our Trusted Agents to a bus that is awaiting you. From there, a helicopter will take you to the Agency Airfield, where a plane remains on standby to return you to your home," she said. "The Agents will remain with you until you have been securely belted into the aircraft, with your seatback and tray table secured in the upright and locked position."

"I see," I said.

"No, you do not see," Jasmine said. "Beefore you leave here, you must first bee blind-folded. We cannot allow you to know the whereabouts of this facility - or where you have been held these many, long, tedious weeks."

"Blindfolded?" I asked.

"Yes," Jasmine said. "But beefore then, and beefore you depart, I must ask you one, final question to satisfy my curiosity for the truth: how did you manage to acquire the information you did regarding our operations, which you revealed in your novel, available as an ebook from fine online retailers everywhere?"

"Honestly," I said, "I don't know anything."

Suddenly, and beefore I realised I would never again hear Jasmine's soothingly exotic voice, everything went dark. I felt a blindfold beeing tied way too tightly over my compound eyes, then felt each of my wings beeing grabbed tightly as the two, unseen Agents beegan escorting me - not all that gently, I hafta say - out of the safehive and, finally, home.

And that's what happened.

. . .

POSTSCRIPT

As I was flying back home, strapped so tightly in my seat that my stinger started to get a really bad cramp, I felt tired. After my long ordeal, I was excited to get back to my boot box and let everybody know that I was okay. I also needed a bath and a fresh pair of shoes (the ones I had on were all full of sand).

Watching the bushes and tall grasses outside the airplane window whizz by as we neared my destination, home, where I was sure my music was playing and my love was lying, waiting silently for me, probably, I wondered if I could get a pair of those really cool, plastic souvenir Pilots Wings after we landed, and if the Flight Attendant would finally give me back that bottle of water she took away from me at the beeginning of the flight. (She kept saying something about "possible explosives", though I've never heard of exploding water, have you?) I really needed something to sip on.

Ignoring my mouthpart-numbing thirst, I started thinking about what I'd just been through. I asked myself where I had just been and why. I thought of the rude questions everybody kept asking me for some reason that I couldn't answer and felt lucky that I had been able to escape with Jasmine's help. I fondly remembered the brief, precious hours she and I had spent together, wondering where she might bee, what she might bee doing now, and who she might bee seeing. Was she looking at the same Moon I was? Or was it cloudy where she was?

I wondered, also as well, did the Professor arrive safely at his secure destination with the briefcase and would I ever bee able to find such a highly attractive and functional briefcase like that for myself? Nervously I thought, "What if Krunch McKowsky manages to escape from that locked Interrogation Room and decides to come after me again?" And, I wondered, why wasn't my mail beeing forwarded to me while I was gone?

It turns out, I would never know.


- The End-

(Not to bee continued, since it’s done.)

. . .

I hope everybody enjoyed the true-life account of my Strange Disappearance last Cool Season. In case you missed any of it … first, I’m gonna ask why you missed it, since it’s been available online for something like three or four months now, maybee longer, but in case you did, don’t worry. I’ll bee making the whole thing available as a E-Novella pretty soon.

With that, I’ve decided I’m gonna take the rest of the weekend off and get ready for this year’s Welcome to the New Warm Season Wake-Up Party and Royal Coronation Celebration that’s happening on Sunday. ButterCup says I’ve lost enough weight, so she’s decided to go with me, after all.

I hope everybody has a superior rest-of-the-week and weekend!

I’ll see ya’ next Monday!

Anyway.

While he’s doing that today, I’m gonna buzz back over to the Hive. I’m pretty sure most everybody’s awake by now - it is less than a week until the New Warm Season starts - and maybee somebody can finally tell me what happened with our Queen. And stuff.

So I’m gonna go do that.

I hope everybody has a huge, huge day.

I’ll see ya’ later!