I’m sitting in the forest,
Bony flesh among the trees,
Trying to consort with both
The flowers and the bees.
As the hours came and went
And nature’s reply did not
I remembered my childhood
And found I had a thought:
The scarecrow of Dorothy’s comp’ny
Lacked a brain, which stopped him from
Doing as I was attempting.
So I questioned: “Am I dumb?”
One of the bees responded:
“Nope. Now go back to the mall.”
I did just that, but pleased
That bees aren’t assholes after all.
The Daily Travesty 