Things you don’t imagine yourself saying to the mother of all bees, that’s trapped itself in your bedroom:

“Hello. I have no intention of hurting you. Please don’t sting me when I put this large plastic cup over you. And please don’t do any sudden buzzing or fly at me because that really scares me.”

“Oh no, oh goodness no, please don’t do that.”

“You’re doing that throbby thing with your abdomen, aren’t you? I’m annoying you aren’t I? Please don’t sting me.”

“[Frantic buzzing] I can see you’re becoming agitated. [Even more frantic buzzing] Let’s just calm down and talk about this..?”

This thing was enormous. I’ve only seen bigger closer to the equator. It had droned on in through the smallest of gaps in the open window and was contentedly strolling around my kamidana, until it ultimately decided that my oil burner was a nice spot for a picnic. The significance of where it landed (and where it proceeded to stay for the next three nail-biting hours until my fear grew strong enough that I could ferment it into resolve) made me wonder if it was a sort of scary black and yellow omen of sorts, so I had a quick flick through my books. The only conclusion I could come to was that I wish I hadn’t taken issue with my namby-pamby wicca books and gotten rid of them to begin collecting the more hardcore occult stuff, so a quick google yielded this.

So it seems I’m in for either a visitor or some luck. I could use some of the latter, but it doesn’t state how long you can leave the bee there for before you can start claiming points. This isn’t a B&B (haha, bee and bee… sorry), and getting rid of my fear at the time seemed preferable to gaining luck.

And anyway, why is it that insects can always find the smallest of access points into a house, but can’t find so much as a huge gaping open window to get back out again. I think they just like turning up, making a lot of noise and unsettling everyone.

Maybe Margarita Pracatan is a bee.