17 - Why I'm Afraid of Bees by R.L. Stine - (ebook by Undead)

 
 
1
     
     
    If you’re afraid of bees, I have to warn you—there are a lot of bees
in this story. In fact, there are hundreds.
    Up until last month, I was afraid of bees. And when you read this story,
you’ll see why.
    It all started in July when I heard a frightening buzz, the buzz of a
bee.
    I sat up straight and searched all around. But I couldn’t see any bees
anywhere. The scary buzzing sound just wouldn’t stop. In fact, it seemed to be
getting louder.
    “It’s probably Andretti again,” I told myself. “Ruining my day, as usual.”
    I’d been reading a stack of comic books under the big maple tree in my back
yard. Other kids might have better things to do on a hot, sticky summer
afternoon—like maybe going to the pool with their friends.
    But not me. My name is Gary Lutz, and I have to be honest. I don’t have many real close friends. Even my nine-year-old
sister, Krissy, doesn’t like me very much. My life is the pits.
    “Why is that?” I constantly ask myself. “What exactly is wrong with me? Why
do all the kids call me names like Lutz the Klutz? Why does everybody always
make fun of me?”
    Sometimes I think it might be because of the way I look. That morning, I’d
spent a long time studying myself in the mirror. I’d stared at myself for at
least half an hour.
    I saw a long, skinny face, a medium-sized nose, and straight blond hair. Not
exactly handsome, but not terrible.
    Bzzzzzz.
    I can’t stand that sound! And it was coming even closer.
    I flopped over on my stomach. Then I peered around the side of the maple
tree. I wanted to get a better view of my neighbor’s yard.
    Oh, no, I thought. I was right. The buzzing sound was coming from Mr.
Andretti’s bees. My neighbor was at it again. He was always hanging out in the
back by his garage, messing with those bees of his.
    How could he handle them every day without worrying about getting stung? I
asked myself. Didn’t they give him the creeps?
    I climbed to my knees and edged a few inches forward. Even though I wanted to get a better look at Mr. Andretti, I didn’t
want him to see me.
    The last time he caught me watching him, he made a big deal out of it. He
acted as if there were some kind of law against sitting outside in your own back
yard!
    “What’s this?” he bellowed at the top of his lungs. “Did someone start a
neighborhood watch committee without informing me? Or is the FBI recruiting
ten-year-old spies these days?”
    This last remark really steamed me, because Mr. Andretti knows perfectly well
that I’m twelve years old. After all, my family has lived next door to
him for my entire life. Which is bad luck for me. Mainly since I’m afraid of
bees.
    I might as well confess it right away. I’m scared of a few other things, too,
such as: dogs, big mean kids, the dark, loud noises, and swimming in the ocean.
I’m even scared of Claus. That’s Krissy’s dumb cat.
    But, most of all, I’m scared of bees. Unfortunately, with a beekeeper for a
neighbor, there are always bees around. Hairy, crawly, buzzing, stinging
bees.
    “Meow!”
    I jumped up as Claus the cat came creeping up behind me. “Why do you have to
stalk me like that?” I cried.
    As I spoke, Claus moved forward and wrapped himself around my leg. Then he dug his long, needle-sharp claws into my skin.
    “Ouch!” I screamed. “Get away from me!” I cannot understand how Krissy can
love that creature so much. She says he only jumps on me because he “likes” me.
Well, all I can say is that I don’t like him! And I wish he would keep
away from me!
    When I finally managed to chase Claus away, I went back to studying my
neighbor. Yes, I’m scared of bees. And I’m fascinated by them, too.
    I can’t seem to stop watching Mr. Andretti all the time. At least he keeps
his hives in a screened-in area behind his garage. That makes me feel pretty
safe. And he acts as if he knows what he’s doing. In fact, he acts as if he’s
the world’s greatest