They are the only ones who annoy me. I am not the only one who detest them. Five-thousand arrogant bumblebees with gold across their chest and air in their heads. Five-thousand in an arena that seats ten-thousand more. Five-thousand loud bumblebees forged from success. From my seat I feel safe, but they are all around me.

Their feelings are known. They send an unforgiving buzz into the air. They cheer and they nag endlessly when a warrior bumblebee is competing. Their painful buzz and irritating swarming of fans, refs, and wrestlers are why they are despised. This is what they love.

Let one forget his reason for being, they’d all continue on, satisfied, continuing to buzz while I am cheerless. Buzz, buzz, buzz bumblebees’ say when I am speechless. They mock.

When they lose they are swept into a frenzy and bite at a victim, when they win they laugh in the faces of the defeated. When there is nothing to cheer and reasons to weep. Five-thousand who buzzed despite feelings. Five-thousand who swarm and overwhelm, will be no more and will forget their color. Five-thousand bumblebees who only swam in good weather.