“Surprise! I’m still alive!” Australian women Noela Rukundo gloated to her husband outside of her own funeral. After her life was spared by a virtuous hit man who did not understand his job description, Rukundo crashed her own funeral and delivered the good news to a group of people gathered to mourn her death.
“Surprise! I’m still alive!” is also a direct quote from the bees currently dancing around their 18,600-square-foot penthouse suite at the top of the Wedgewood Academic Center, celebrating their corporal bodies and thanking Beezus that they’re alive.
Rumors swirled early Monday morning about a potential bee bloodbath, but the secluded and exclusive nature of the Dr. Fisher’s Beesort and Day Spa made confirmation of the bees’ beating hearts difficult, and left students and faculty fearful of the safety of the insects.
Heart rates spiked and palms sweated as various faculty members pleaded the fifth. The people needed answers, but flagging down an operating elevator to ascend to the top of Wedgewood could take days, and the inevitable awkward elevator silence made the journey too perilous for any Vision journalist to attempt.
After 100,000 black and yellow bodies were found dead on the roof of the downtown Music City Center at the beginning of February, students found themselves terrified and moved by the possibility of losing their own bees, despite not previously thinking about them for months.
Suddenly, the possibility of never tasting the flowery, sweet honey of the bees, previously promised as a reward for outstanding performances, seemed too much to bear.
Solace finally came in the form of the comforting words of manager of landscaping and grounds Mary Weber.
“Our bees are fine,” Weber said, causing cheers to bounce off the glass walls of the Vision office and leaving students to forget about the bees for another several months.
This article was written by Jessica King.