The Dance of the Great Hornet Queen

The Dance of the Great Hornet Queen

You can see them with singular focus as they move through the air lilting with the warm September breeze. Each one is returning from a personal mission gathering bounty to bestow at the feet of their glorious summer queen.

And for her, they will dance until their heats weaken but for only their their comrades may know the source of such joy. And in those moments they are truly nature’s beauty.

A great and constant cacophony of humming emits from their mighty fortress high in a tree amongst a field of ripened apples. It is guarded by the queen’s squires of orange and yellow and it is very much in the path of these hurried young men. Their burden weighs heavily upon them and their window is slowly closing.

“Is that a m-m-mur murder hornet?”

Billy side-eyed his best friend, “No, it’s just a regular yellow jacket. And they only murder honeybees, not people.”

His heavy set best friend skipped a step to keep up with the much taller Billy, “But they still st-st-sting? Right?”

With an annoyed sigh Billy responded, “Yea, and it’s pretty bad I guess. Best you just leave them be.”

Giggling, “You said ‘bee’.”

Billy adjusted his backpack so it slung over his right shoulder. The back pack contained a half sandwich, playing cards, cell phone (that he’s not allowed to use between 8:30 and 2:30 on school days), and the reason they were trudging through the apple orchard so early in the morning.

They needed a picture to settle a score.

Billy’s friend Alan kept up, “They sure are pretty they way they look, like their dancing around someone. It’s nice.”

This morning would be what Billy understood as his defining statement regarding loyalty to his somewhat limited but always faithful best friend Alan, “You need new glasses, they’re just a bunch of bees so stop daydreaming.”

Alan, of course persisted, “How do you know their bees anyhow? They look like they’re wearing goggles and seem kind of big.”

Although at times irritating, Alan was quite useful on excursions of this type because of his great attention to detail. They did, in fact, seem rather big for honeybees and almost out of place so for north into Washington state. They were unusual looking.

They had about thirty minutes to complete the task and make it back to school on time. Billy was in charge, “Start keeping an eye out for a long stick and grab a couple of apples for your pack.”

Around this time of year, the queen does emerge to begin a foray of the area around her castle as the last of the brood reach maturity. She will need a secure place under the leaves to overwinter as her plebes weaken and die.

A

lan was starting to pant a little and sweat broke across his brow, “How much more you think Billy? I’m tired.”

Billy had become accustomed to these types of questions over the past five or so years, “It’s just up there, that big ass tree, just like Wes said. Now come on we’re losing time.” 

“But our f-f-folks…”

“… won’t know a thing if we hurry and you don’t get us caught”.

Billy was feeling annoyed and he knew it. “This is all your fault anyway you know.”

He felt bad as soon as the words slipped from his lips.

Alan stopped. There was already a dirt ring round his new school kicks, “Said I was sorry.”

Billy stopped in front of him, “I said it’s alright, I shouldn’t have let you play.”

The plan was to complete the task and get back to home just leave again for school having told their parents that they went out early to pick some apples.

This year Billy was entering the seventh grade while his sidekick Alan would repeat the sixth. A big part of the transition to seventh was mastering the politics of coolness without sacrificing your own values in the process. Billy’s survival required some form of balance that would allow acceptance while not joining in on the bullying entirely.

At their school, coolness required either joining in on the abuse of the ‘losers’ or besting the ‘abusers’ in some way to grant reprieve. Billy aimed to do just that now on behalf of himself and his awkward comrade Alan.

As they approached the location, Billy became chastened at the sight of the behemoth gray castle that was delicately hanging (somehow) form one of the middle height branches of the tree.

From a distance, he’d underestimated the size of the creatures milling overhead. He now felt his breath become short and was aware of his own heartbeat.

Alan stopped next time him, long stick in hand, “That it?”

“Yep.”

“Look at them all, its kind of big.”

Bill appreciated the understatement at that moment, “It sure is.”

Just then, a high pitched squealing sound came from the other side of the orchard. They were it came from. The purse lips and mouth inserted fingers of one Wesley Fowler.

“Fuck”, was all Billy could muster.

As one might predict, Alan began to panic, “Oh no what do we do?”

Billy laid his pack down, “We settle up.”

A few days earlier, a series of events fell into motion one day when Alan was supposed to be out sick.

In the post pandemic fall, the school environment had changed considerably. Many students could be found pitching pennies at recess and prior to admittance to school. Requirements for temperature taking and glove checks had left ample freedoms.

There was to be no sport activity involving physical contact under any circumstances. Even the classics like slap hands and mercy were outlawed. This derailed Billy’s plan to win coolness with his quarterbacking or his basketball play-making ability.

Various games of skill had taken over the school as replacements for a pick-up 21 or a home run derby. Each of these could be played for a winner in fifteen minutes or less and were thus, well timed for school entry check-ins and break after lunch.

Card playing had become Billy’s preference and it was even more appealing if the card game involved betting. He’d become a student of the art over the summer with his cousin visiting from out of state. He had even become a devotee of an elegant game known as Catch the Ten.

An anglicized version of a Scottish game called Whist, it is played with a deck of only 36 cards. The order of trumps has the Jack high. The goal was to reach 41 points by taking tricks.

To make the game even more appealing, it could be played in even numbers or odd, with the even being played with a partner. Given this, and the fifteen minute time-frame, Tens became a game of choice that year on the playground.

Billy preferred playing the game solo and was very adept in terms of visual memory. He could tell you when and by whom a trump or the elusive 10 had been played. He could also figure out the rest from observing opponent facial subtleties for a ‘tell’.

A ‘tell’ could be anything but often is a slight grin or a giggle. He had gained a fair amount of credibility in the few short weeks of the school year due to his success.

It was during one of these games that a situation developed in which he now found himself trying to extricate both he and Alan before things escalated any further.

Wes, was the undisputed king of all assholes at the school and Billy hated him. It was he who orchestrated this ridiculous dare to pay off a card playing debt and it was he who tormented the profoundly near-sighted Alan day in and day out. If Wes were not in the picture, it would be Billy that ran the school and it would be done fairly and democratically.

Wes was accompanied by two of his henchmen, Wiggy and Gault. Their combined fantasy worlds were the stuff of nightmares and their stupidity was only outweighed by their passion for cruelty. Wes had surgery at one point for a cleft palate.

It left him with what appeared to be a permanent sneer. Billy’s mother once suggested that its his feelings of inferiority around this facial distinction that made him lash out at weaker children. Billy just thought he was prick.

Wes came to a stance about twenty yards away. He was flanked by his knuckle dragging thug friends. He whacked a walking stick into hi s open palm as he spoke, “Well I guess you two at least had the stones to show. We just stopped by to make sure.

Alan stepped behind Billy, “I can’t see, how close are they?”

“Just stay there Alan.”

Billy could sense the creatures getting more agitated.

“I don’t wanna do it anymore Billy,” Alan was crying.

Wes laughed, you better get to it little baby, and we do need a picture.”

The card game that started this mess went well early for Billy. He’d beaten Wes and company two games already and there was still time left. Thats why he was disappointed when he saw Alan round the corner with his usual aplomb, “Hey guys.”

Wes was not known to take losing well and with ten minutes to go, “Hey I got an idea. With Alan here we got enough tom play partners.”

Billy’s heart sank, just like it did when they assigned as reading buddies several grades ago.

“He doesn’t know how to play.”

Alan defended, “I do, I do, your cousin taught me while you were in the hospital for your tonsils.”

Billy has been getting Alan out of jams for years now. No matter what they do to him, he always turns the other cheek. He had this thing wrapped, he’d throw the last round and let Wes win. But now, with Alan?

Billy continued, “His parents don’t give an allowance anyways, no money.”

“That’s ok, we’ll just make the stakes an interesting dare.”

Billy wanted Alan to shut-up.

“Billy, I wanna.”

Alan was quite naïve and did not understand the fact that they were not going to win the bet.

As the tricks rolled in, Billy and Alan were ahead by two points. An angry Wes spoke, “If I only knew where that ten was.”

Alan giggled. The dare was set. Alan was to knock down the big honeybee nest at the end of the apple orchard.

Back in the field, Wes cackled, “You idiots! You picked a nest full of those Asian Giant hornets just for a stupid dare”.

Alan looked around terrified, “Billy my glasses!”

His glasses had fallen while putting his pack down

“Damn they’re going make a meal out of fat Alan over there.”

Billy could hear the now alarmed creatures buzzing more aggressively overhead and he was able to see them gather like a carpet around an area on the ground, beneath the nest.

Wes angrily spoke, “if you don’t do it I will” as he picked up a medium sized rock.

Alan cried out, “No!” as he leaped toward Wes only to see the  rock fly through the air and strike the paper fortress creating a golf-ball size hole in its side.

Billy went to pick him up and was struck by a kick to the calf muscle and fell.

The hornets poured out in a stream of dark with some flashes or orange. Most gathered on the ground where their queen lay prepping for flight.

Alan lay face down and staring at the large, black oval eyes of the queen herself. He could hear Billy moaning in pain as he was already stung on the neck. Wes began to scream and convulse. Alan felt his glasses and put them on .

There she calmly lay with her attendants around her. Alan calmly stood, reached into his pocket, pulled out an epi pen and saved Wes’ life. The queen and her minions danced.