Beehive

It was while I served as an assistant volunteer fire marshal that I saw the singular item that survived a horrific conflagration of the Solomon Temple in Grand Rapids, Michigan. It was a Shofar (a ram’s horn). I thought it strange that it alone survived the fire, which had sent smoke billowing for many miles.

When I got back to the fire-station and got myself cleaned up, I went down the fire pole, almost knocking over one of our new recruits; and, it would have been my fault wrong since I had failed to warn anybody downstairs by calling out “Man on the Pole.”

When I finally got to the duty desk and scanned through the stack of paper, I found one with my name on the “TO” line and on the “FROM” line, a name I was not familiar with, Jason Shownalter. Then there was “Killer Bees” on the “REMARK” line and a phone number and area code.

I was puzzling over why somebody interested in killer bees would want a fireman. Never-the-less, I called the number and immediately a woman’s voice asked “Are you from the Brunnerville Fire Station?”
When I said, “yes”; she responded with “O thank God; we need your help. Please come as quick as you can!” I could feel it in my bones that she was going to hang up before giving me her address and directions of how to get there. I hollered as loud as I could, “LADY, LADY, DON’T HANG UP.” I could hear her breathing as she brought the hand piece close to her head. She, asked, “Yes, What do you want?” as if I was the one who originated the conversation. When I explained that I needed her address and directions to her place, she got befuddled, “Oh yes, I guess you would want that information; but didn’t I give it to you before? It’s strange, very strange. But, then again nothing has been right since my husband bought that new beehive from that man.” “What man?” I asked. “The man who was making the rounds of nearby farms and asking of the owners wanted to by bees to help pollinate their crops! That’s who!”
“Let me get this straight: your husband bought a beehive from a traveling salesman?” “Yup.” “I guess the new bees were not good at pollinating your crops?” “No sir, they did okay.” “Now I’m stumped, what’s not right?” Those dag-burned new bees killed all of our old bees!” “It don’t think it’s illegal to kill bees. Am I right?”

“Listen up, Mr. Fireman! The new bees are killer bees and they are starting to kill our chickens, dogs and goats, lambs and piglets. It’s a living hell over here! Before too long they’ll be after our livestock. You can’t waste time jabbering on the phone! Get over here as quick as you can!”