Georgie has a Lot to Talk About this week...


Right off the Top here I’m gonna hafta’ warn you that I have a Lot to tell you about, so if you’re in some kind of Hurry or something, you probably shouldn’t end up eeing Late just beecause you decided to spend the Time reading whatever it is that I have to say - even though some might consider that to bee Highly Rude. But then again, it’s Highly Rude to bee Late, isn’t it? So either way, I guess maybee it doesn’t matter.


So in case you haven’t Noticed, it's been Highly Cold out. Now usually, that wouldn't bee much of a Problem, beecause as Bees, if it's too Cold out, we just stay inside where it's Warm and Enjoy the Time Off. Unfortunately, things just haven't been quite that Simple around here lately, have they? No, they have not.

First of all, that Wasp, Larry (the one that keeps Dominating the TV Remote Control, who never picks up his Wet Towels in the Bathroom, and who was supposed to have Moved Out of my ShoeBox by Midnight, December 31, 2022) is still a Problem. Why? Beecause he’s still here.

At long last, I was supposed to finally have my ShoeBox back, and Potato (my Sensory-Impaired Certified Emotional Support/Service Lady Bug) and I could try to enjoy this Cold Season without a Wasp around. But did that happen? No, it did not.

As it turned out, the day Larry was supposed to Pack his Things and Move Out, it got Beeyond Highly Frosty Cold out and, beecause Larry is a Jerk and didn't Plan Ahead, he had no place to go when my Chime-Rite ™ Accu-Tick Personal Chronometer struck Midnight.

“Where am I to go?” Larry asked. Did I have an answer?
No, I did not.

As I am sure you Know, I just happen to bee a Highly Considerate and Kind Bee, so could I just throw Larry out of my ShoeBox and into the Dark, Freezie Cold, knowing that he'd probably Freeze to Death? That wouldn't bee Right at all, even if he is a Jerk, now would it? No, it would not, no, I could not, so no, I didn’t. So Larry is still here, in my ShoeBox, with Potato and me - and he's still not picking up his Wet Towels, the Jerk. 

I'm gonna' bee Intensely Glad when it finally warms up and Larry can finally get the hell out of my ShoeBox.

In the meantime, I've had to go Outside twice this week.
The first time I had to go Out it was beecause I was Informed by Ph.Bee, the Hive Doctor, that I had to show up at the Hive Clinic for a Complimentary Post-Persistent-Coma-Follow-Up Exam. The day I had to go it was so Cold that my Wings were just about Frozen by the time I got there, even though I was wearing my Mittens.

When I arrived, Nurse Beeatrice immediately started Buzzing at me about Bringing In a bunch of Melty Snow on my Boots. But what in the hell was I supposed to do? I had to walk to the Clinic (I mean, have you ever tried to Fly with Mittens on? Yeah, I didn't think so.) There's Snow all over everywhere Outside, so yeah sure fine, I might have gotten some Snow on my Boots and Tracked it into the Clinic. But if they Know that there's Snow everywhere Outside, why the hell don't they Install some sort of Protective Mat and Moisture Barrier down at the Entrance? I asked Nurse Beeatrice about that - she just gave me a Dirty Look and said, "Don't bee Impertinent, Bee."  

Fine. But then don't get Mad at me just beecause you didn’t Plan Ahead is what I say. Seriously now.

Anyway, Nurse Beeatrice told me to have a Seat, then gave me a Huge Stack of Papers to fill out. I told her that I had already just filled out all those Forms, and that Nothing at all had Changed, except for my Address, which (as we all Know) was what it was Beefore I even went into that Persistent Coma, so ... but she didn't seem to Care, did she? No, she did not.

"It's the New Year," she told me. "You must fill out all of our Mandatory Personal Information and Health History Reporting Forms at the beeginning of each and every New Calendar Year - Or Else."

Fine. So I did that. Then I had to wait about 87 Minutes beefore Ph.Bee finally came back from Lunch and started giving me the Exam. 

He gave me the same Physical Exam he did the day they thew me out of the Clinic and left me in that Meadow, including what Ph.Bee called a “Semi-Standardised Fictional Apperception and Suspected Impaired Memory Test - or the SSFASIMT, for short.” I guess I didn't do so well on that one, beecause Ph.Bee said, "It's pretty apparent that your Condition is simply Not Improving as we’d Hoped. According to the SSFASIMT’s Questionably Reliable Test Results, it’s clear that you now very much suffer from Post-Persistent-Coma Memory Impairment and Personality Shift Disorder - or PPCMIPSD, for short."

"What in the hell is that?" I asked him.

"And, unfortunately, there is no actual Treatment for PPCMIPSD. You'll likely have to learn to Live with it," he said.

"Yeah, but what is it? There's nothing I can do about it?" I had to have some Answers.

"So we'll see you back here in... let's say in maybee a Year? We will do another Follow-Up on this. Until then, I’ll bee giving you this Certificate that will Explain to anybody who might Ask that you suffer from PPCMIPSD and that you’re not Fully Responsible for yourself or your Actions. Please bee sure to stop at Nurse Beeatrice's Station on your way out to set up the Follow-Up Appointment, and to pay any Outstanding Balances currently Due on your Account. Have a nice Day."  I took the Certificate, and he left.

Geeeeeze. Not only did I find out I have PPCMIPSD, but that I had an Outstanding Balance Due of over 138,913 Pounds of Honey; fortunately, I was able to pay off that Entire Balance Due by Redeeming approximately 358,948,320.3 of those Snark Brothers Gift Cards, which leaves me just enough of those things to give out for Birthday Gifts over the next Year, so that was a good thing. 

After I left the Clinic with my Certificate, I had some Extra Time on my Wings, so I Decided to stop by the “Bee Times Gazette Journal Record...and Online News” and pay a Mostly Friendly Visit to my Editor. I hadn't heard from him in a Long While you know, and I thought maybee he might have some sort of Assignment for me - you know, something to kind of help get me back into the Real World after beeing in that Persistent Coma so Persistently. 

When I got to his Office, my Editor seemed Highly Upset to see me for some Reason.

"Just where the hell have you been, Bee?" he asked me. I didn’t think it was Necessary for him to bee so Nasty, but I told him that, except for that visit to the Hive Clinic, I've pretty much just been hanging out at home in my ShoeBox (unfortunately with that Jerk, Larry), trying to stay Warm, since it's so Cold outside, and that even though he hadn’t Asked yet, I was Mostly Fine.

"Except for the fact that Larry refuses to pick up his Wet Towels, and that he's a TV Remote Hoarder, I guess things have been going Okay," I told him. "I think for the next few Days, after I get back to my ShoeBox, I just might..."

"Let me just stop you there, Bee," he stopped me there. "What I want to know is: where is it?"

"Where is what?" I asked. 

"The next Part of your Feature Story. You're beeyond Late, and our Beeloved Readers are seriously beeginning to lose their Patience with you, as am I," my Editor buzzed.

"I have No Idea what you're Talking About," I commented.

“Your Feature Story - the one you’re supposed to bee Writing every Week for this Publication,” he Reminded me. “Is that what you’re Holding in your Wing?”

“This?” I asked.

“Yes, that, the Thing you’re Holding in your Wing,” he said.

“No, I don’t think this is a Feature Article, but I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to Show it to you,” I said as I showed him my Certificate.

My Editor took the Certificate and started Reading all about how I have PPCMIPSD, and what that might Mean as far as my Ability to Responsibly Hold Down a Steady Job.

Finally, he said, “So that’s how this is going to Play Out, is it, Bee? You think that beecause you have PPCMIPSD, you can just Lolly-Gag, and not Show Up to Work? Is that it?”

“Well, yeah, I…” I started to tell him, but he interrupted me.

“Guess again, Bee. If you think you can just not Show Up and do the Job you were Hired to do, you might as well not Show Up,” he said. “There’s not Room around here for any Bee who doesn’t Show Up, so you’re going to have to Decide: are you going to Show Up or Not?”

I wasn’t sure how I should Answer his Question, beecause I was Highly Confused about whether or not there was Room for me if I didn’t Show Up. It sounded like there wasn’t, and even less Room for me if I did Show Up.

“What was the Question?” I asked him.

My Editor Yanked on his Antennae in an Angry Way, then pointed his Wing at me and said, “Bee, PPCMIPSD or No PPCMIPSD, Certificate or No Certificate, I expect you to Show Up with the next Part of your Feature Article describing Life with a Persistent Coma - Or Else! Now get out of my Office!”

So I did that.

I really hope that if I do Show Up with whatever it was that my Editor wants from me, that there’s Room for me, ya’ know? Until I get this Figured Out, though, I’m gonna stay right here in my Boot Box and try to stay Warm (it’s Highly Cold Outside, in case I didn’t mention it).


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