The Dangers of Living Green, or The Attack of the Beast with Two Cheeks

      Whenever the weather's fine, my wife and I like to save a little electricity by hanging our clothes out on the deck and taking advantage of some of that free solar power that's so plentiful here in North Carolina. It might not end our national dependence on foreign oil, but it keeps the electric clothes dryer silent for several months a year. Plus, it makes the clothes smell good.
      I discovered yesterday, however, that green living is not without its dangers. I had just showered and pulled on a t-shirt and pair of shorts that had dried out on the line the day before. As I stood in the bathroom brushing my hair, I heard a buzzing, like a fly caught in a window. But loud. I couldn't quite place where the little guy was, but since I was standing right next to the window, I assumed he was trapped behind the blinds. But, man, did that bug sound pissed off. And loud. Too loud for a housefly. Maybe he was one of those big horseflies...but, you know...he really sounded more like a bee. And loud. And closer even than the window.
      The exact nature and location of the insect in question were finally made clear to me when the little bastard stung me twice in the ass. I quickly vacated the bathroom and my clothes, and retreated to the living room to assess the situation. When my brain finally cycled out of ass-preservation mode, I realized that a bee had gotten caught up in my clothes from the line and spent what must have been a long, dark night of the soul trapped in my shorts in my dresser drawer. Since he had already had a bad night, I shouldn't exactly have been surprised that he reacted less than charitably to finding himself swept up once again and trapped against my naked ass. His reaction, while regrettable, can hardly be second-guessed.
      I've been saying "he," but really I should say "she." When I girded up my loins and returned to my abandoned clothes, I discovered a Xylocopa, or carpenter bee, still dazed and obviously traumatized, clinging to the inside of my shorts. According to Wikipedia--the fount of all suspect knowledge--among carpenter bees, "males are harmless since they do not have a stinger. Female bees do have a stinger, but are not aggressive, and will not sting unless directly provoked." I must admit that shutting her in my drawer and then pressing her against my ass cannot be considered as anything other than provocative.
      Animal lovers will be glad to hear that I decided against retribution, and imprisoned Mrs. Carpenter only long enough to show her to my wife and tell my tale of woe. After the requisite laughter at my expense, Donna released her back into the garden, where Mrs. Carpenter was last seen lustily pollinating one of our sedum plants, and presumably sharing with her apian friends her own harrowing tale--of a dark night, sudden movement, and the attack of the beast with two cheeks.