Georgie's amazing story continues as Part 13 of "The Bee Who Knew Too Much" unfolds...
I’ll get to sharing the next part of my suspenseful story in a minute, but first I thought I should tell you what’s going on here.
(Oh. Beefore we go on … I’m sorry I told everybody yesterday that I hope you all had a magnificently rancid day. That’s not what I was trying to say. That was the last phrase Jean Luc taught me beefore we left. I think the next time I try to take French lessons, I’m gonna try to find somebody that actually knows French.)
So yesterday, Fleur showed up with a taxi and four passports. We were standing out on the sidewalk with all our stuff when the taxi pulled up. Fleur got out, gave each of us a passport and asked if we were ready to go.
“Go where, though?” I asked. I was curious. “Can’t we just go to another motel, maybee one that doesn’t have a 24-hour disco downstairs? Or maybee just go back home?”
“No, mon cher,” she said. “You cannot ztay here. And you cannot go back home. It izz not zafe for you. No. it izz imperatife zat no-one knows where you are until it is zafe for you.”
Geeeeeze. So now we’re in a Witness Protection Programme or something? If you ask me, this whole thing about our missing the broadcast of the Queen’s speech has been blown way out of proportion.
Still . . .Fleur is right, probably. So we’re still in the process of beeing transported to we dunno where.
I’m not entirely sure when I’ll bee able to let everybody know where we’re at or what’s going on, so, I hope this next part of my story will keep you occupied until I can do that - ya’ know, letcha know where we’re at or what’s going on, beecause as I said, I don’t know.
So here’s Part 13 of my story . . .
13.
"Uhhmm," I started to try to think of what to say as Farouk sat down at the table across from me, took off his fez and set it in front of him. (Had I mentioned that Farouk was wearing a fez? He was. A red one, actually.)
"I am glad that you finally coming to your senses, bee, and that you will now share with us what you truly know. Little did you know that, had you not mentioned the existence of the second Stick, we would have had to free you, as apparently, you had nearly fooled us."
About all I could think was, "Oh geeeeeeze, me and my big mouth parts."
I looked at Farouk and tried to act like I wasn't beeing serious.
"I was just KIDDING," I told him. "I don't know anything about any second Stick. Geeeze, I don't even know about this one sitting here, buzzing and clicking at us from this handsome but highly unfamiliar briefcase. And why is it doing that?"
"Again you profess to know nothing," Farouk slammed his wing on the table, almost flattening his fez. (There's nothing worse than a flat fez.)
"Truly, this game has grown tiresome. You have already tipped your wing concerning the information you possess. and revealed to us that you know more than you pretend. You must realise you have no choice but to tell us what you know. Bee not confused that you will remain here, with us, until you do so."
I thought I'd try to lighten the mood just a little bit, so I said, "Well, I was really hoping to get outta here by lunchtime, but since you asked..."
"Once again, we find no amusement in your feeble attempt to bee humorous, bee."
Farouk motioned to Krunch McKowsky, who was still standing beehind me, filling that bucket they had with more nectar. “Oh great,” I thought to myself. “They’re gonna waste more delicious nectar by pouring it all over me like they did beefore.” I felt nervous. Then I felt Krunch grabbing my antennae as he started to pull me out of my chair.
"Fine," I said. "I'll tell you what I know, but only to her," and I pointed my wing at Jasmine.
I saw Farouk raise his wing to Krunch and nod. Krunch loosened his grip and let me sit back down.
Seemingly happy that I said I’d talk, Farouk stood up, put his fez back on, and beegan to walk toward the door, where Krunch McKowsky was standing, holding that bucket of delightfully refreshing nectar. Beefore he left, he went over to where Jasmine was standing in the shadows and buzzed something super-quietly to her, then he and McKowsky left, slamming the door beehind them.
Jasmine slowly, gracefully, and with an air of mystery surrounding her, approached me out of the shadows and sat where Farouk had been just moments beefore.
"I am listening," she said to me.
This was it. I had to tell her something, so I said the first thing that popped into my head.
"Has anybody ever told you that you're highly attractive?"
(to bee continued)
. . .
Okay then. Until my return, I hope everybody has miraculously gratifying time!
I’ll see ya’ when I see ya’!
There's been an unexpected development...
I was just thinking that I never can’t not seem to run into that Krunch McKowsky wherever I might go, probably.
Get this: he showed up at our door around lunchtime today posing as Room Service. We didn’t recognise him at first, beecause he was wearing a fake moustache, but thankfully Bert’s built-in Unwanted Visitors Sensor and Alert Panel (which can bee found just under his right wing pit) informed us of his presence. Almost as soon as the guy entered the room, Bert started blinking and beeping. Finally, Bert issued a pre-recorded warning and let us know what was going on.
“Alert! Unwanted Visitor detected in vicinity. Please stow all valuables in a safe place. It is Tuesday,February 2, 2016. The current time is 13:23:01. The local outside temperature is a balmy 284.4833 degrees Kelvin. Have a nice day.”
Of course, it wasn’t until we decided to rip that fake moustache off that we realised who we were dealing with.
Officer McKowsky was trying to fool us by hiding a bunch of extradition papers (we looked it up…that’s not a good thing) in a stack of Pollen Pancakes (they call them “creeps” here in Paris, that’s what Jean Luc told me) with a side of peeled grapes and some French Lilac Nectar we had ordered for lunch.
As soon as we figured out what was going on, we all jumped him. Bert held him down while we tied him up with some old shoelaces we found in the lobby two days ago, then we stuffed him - and those papers - in a janitor’s closet and locked the door. (Of course, we left him a half a thimble full of nectar, in case he gets thirsty.)
As far as we know, he’s still in there. I hope so.
Anyway … now, we hafta leave here. I’m not sure where we’re going yet, but Fleur de Bee says she’ll help us out. That means I need to pack beefore the taxi she’s sending gets here.
So I’m gonna go do that.
I hope everybody has a magnifiquement race day!
I’ll see ya’ later!
It would probably bee a good idea if Georgie looked up the definition of "extradition"...
Well, we had a pretty mellow day here in Paris. I spent most of it still trying to get that French Knot out of my left antenna.
I may have to go see a Specialist.
Anyway, a little while ago, we got a Beemail from Rudy in Manitou Springs. He sent us this picture which he said shows a note he wrote on the inside of the boot box window.
Of course, I don’t know what he’s doing inside the boot box - I don’t remember giving him keys - but whatever. I don’t even know he managed to get in there. From he told us, the boot box is completely buried in snow.
We’re all glad we decided to stick around in Paris for awhile. It didn’t snow here. Oh sure, it’s a bit chilly, but at least we don’t need a set of No-Sink Auto-Adjusting Snow Shoes to get around. (Those things eat batteries like you wouldn’t beelieve.)
He told us in his email that the Buzz•O•Gram™ we got a few days ago was fake. Queen Bee is still very much in charge in the Hive (“for now,” he said) and that she’s trying to have us “extra dighted”, whatever that means. I’m pretty sure that might bee a good thing, since just about anything extra is a good thing.
Okay then. It’s just about time get into my wee bee pyjamas and call it a day.
I hope everybody had a massively superior day!
I’ll see ya’ later!
It's Monday, Georgie's favourite day of the week!
I was incredibly happy to find out that Mondays here in France are every bit as glorious as they are back home. Who knew?
So, ButterCup and I have returned from our long weekend. We had a great time, though every time she and I went out somewhere, it felt as if we were beeing followed. I keep thinking that I see Krunch McKowsky lurking around, but I can’t bee sure. My usual, razor-sharp senses aren’t as razor-sharp at the moment since I realised that my left antennae somehow got tied into a French Knot. (I’m still trying to figure out how that happened.) I couldn’t figure out why I seemed to bee having so much trouble finding my way around, then ButterCup looked at me funny and said, “Do you realise that your left antenna is tied in a French Knot?”
“It is?” I asked her and started trying to find a mirror somewhere.
“Yes, it is,” she said. “But I must say that it looks good on you.”
Geeeeze. It might look good, but it certainly doesn’t feel good - and I’m still trying to get that thing untied so it’ll work properly.
So I’m gonna go do that.
I hope everybody has an exquisitely sublime day!
I’ll see ya’ later!