Bad Bee Biz-ness

A clown was running down the street. His hands flailed around in the air. On his head was a wig dressed up in snow cone coloring. It went well with his shirt and giant red nose. His makeup seemed to be dripping from the heat. He had chosen Biz for his stage name. Performance reviews could be found online. In general the internet called him ‘Not Biz-nesslike’ and ‘A-Biz-mal’. Parents seeking new ways to traumatize their children seemed to love him and left positive reviews.

He was currently screeching in excessive panic. This was just in time for the Monday morning commute.

“Beeeeees! BEEEEES!” The clown yelled. He stopped and rolled frequently trying to shake off a buzzing swarm of insects that might not be real. Puddles from last nights rainfall splashed as absurdly large feet stomped through.

A whistle pierced the air. One male voice shouted to another over a crowd of gawking civilians. This morning’s commute was the most interesting this month. It’s not every day a raggedy clown runs through the street with people chasing him.

“Penguins! Oh god! ” He ran faster and tipped over everything in his path. Trash Cans, newspaper machines, small dogs. Admittedly the small dogs righted themselves very quickly and proceeded to encourage the chasing penguins with their barking.

“Hey! Stop running!” One of the supposed penguins shouted.

“Beeeeeeees! Penguins, Beees!” His shirt was baggy around the middle. Something buzzed in one of the inside pockets. Biz did not notice in his panic.

His last job had ended with him celebrating with a coworker. Last night they had more than a few drinks, and one of them seemed to have been spiked with questionable substances. This resulted in Biz spending most of the night twitching and finding places to hide. Finally, after chewing on various benches, he had escaped the confines of the park and found civilization. Normal people were not prepared for this bad Bee-havior. No one could be.

Biz made it around a corner. Soon he was behind two trashcans and peering back down the alley way. His face scanned through the gap in a panic. A white trail of makeup rubbed off on one of the metal trashcan sides. Smells from the garbage bags would disgust a less focused man. Biz was focused upon scouting for his pursuing duo.

“Bees. Bees. Bees.” Biz whispered. In two weeks, when someone told him of these antic’s, Biz would regret not having a selfie stick and a camera. This would have looked good on his website. ‘Clown wows downtown with impromptu act’.

The two giant penguins came into view. They looked down the alley way. One was whispering into something on his shoulder. A black box that likely communicated with their penguin overlords. Biz might have been imagining that, he was rather strung out at the moment. One of them looked very angry at the other for being so slow. The slow one picked up one of the chairs Biz had knocked over during his mad dash.

“Beeeeees.” Biz muttered sadly. That word was the only articulate thing to escape his mouth all morning. His perusing penguins were waving the long black fish down the alley where Biz was hiding. One yelled to the other. Finally the huffing one sat down on his chair and seemed to sigh in defeat. The angry Penguin reached out, and slapped him with a fish. Unexpectedly, the man who god slapped was knocked off his seat by the force.

Biz stood up. They were just trying to lull him into a false sense of security.

“Beeeees!” He declared loudly and pointed at the two angry penguins. Never mind the shiny stars on their belts. Or the car behind that had just rolled up. Its lights blared red and blue and wore all the signs of law enforcement. To Biz, they were penguins.

“Ahhh!” He ran off leaving the two Penguin officers behind. They shouted halfheartedly but seemed to give up serious pursuit for now. There were other easier to catch pray all around.

The sound inside his shirt started up once again. A music student might recognize the ringtone as ‘Flight of the Bumble Bee’. It had been chasing him off and on all morning. Biz went around a corner, down the street and into a doorway that probably lead somewhere important. Inside that important place he ran through a wide open room with tall ceilings. Along the side was a waist high rail, behind it a mirror that seemed to stretch on forever.

The buzzing stopped and Biz immediately slowed his flailing run. He stared at the strung out clown in the mirror. A giggle escaped, then another, finally he was laughing. One hand pulled won the side of his face. Paint smeared and skin stretched under the force. Biz put both hands up, touched the tips together, and raised a leg up in a swan pose. He spun and fell.

For a moment he sat there. In the reflection there was something missing. Something was very off about his entire appearance. It wasn’t the clown costume. It wasn’t his wig being flattened on one side. The buttons on his shirt were off a row. That wasn’t the problem either.

“Hey! What are you doing here?”

“Ahhh! A giraffe!” He yelled loudly and pointed at the woman who had just come in. Well, not at the woman, but at her reflection in the long mirror. Her neck seemed to stretch on forever.

Biz was scared of giraffes. His fear of them was nearly as great as the fear of bees and penguins. Certainly this irrational phobia wasn’t for all animals. Biz really liked kittens. For a moment his eyes lost focus as dreams of purring and fur passed through.

“I’m calling the cops if you don’t get out of here!” The giraffe shouted while stamping one absurdly long leg.

“Ahhh! Penguins!” He ran out of the front door of the dance studio. Bells jangled and clanged behind him.

Ten minutes later and Biz was wandering the streets. He had found a sign and was causing holding it to one side. After all, the secret to looking busy at work involved carrying around a stack of papers. Biz assumed that the larger the paper, the busier he would look. Looking busy would prevent the penguins from chasing him again. He looked around slowly. His eyes blinked independently of each other. Left, then right, then right again.

“Oh no!” He shouted. There was a problem nearby.

Lines of meerkats stood tall across the street. Most of them seemed engrossed on something within their paws. Giant though they may be, they were still simple minded creatures. No amount of suit wearing or hair styles could make up for their distraction. This was evidenced by the fact that most of the meerkats seemed unable to make it down the stairs correctly.

Biz grabbed a balloon from his inside pocket. He would help. Three balloon animals later and things were set up. He’d written out a message on his poster board. There was a vaguely catlike creature balloon attached to the side.

“Poor man. He looks terrible.” One of the approaching meercats said. This one was taller than Biz was.

“Only in New York right?” A female meercat said. She was wearing some short dress with heels that made her tall. Which was silly, meercats didn’t need dresses. Biz pulled off his wig and scratched at a spot that had been bugging him for a while. A clink of coins could be heard moments later.

Biz stared inside his wig with wonder. One of the meercats had shared some treasure. That was kind of them. Clearly they were pleased with his help.

“Get a job.” Someone pushed him away. Biz cried out.

“Degenerate. Children come through here.” Biz was just trying to help. These animals seemed so lost. Still, more were going down into the tunnel than had before. He might not be able to help everyone but his sign had made a difference.

Then the bees started again. Biz dropped his sign and balloon animals popped as people stepped on them. The brief destruction didn’t matter, Biz was running. He made it around a corner and past the tunnel for meerkats. Seconds later he was across a street full of honking rhinos.

“Not him again!” A voice yelled. Biz turned and looked in horror.

The penguins were back! They had found him! Oh god the horror!

“Beeees!” He yelled.

“Come on, we’ve got him this time!” One of the penguins said to their partner in penguining. If that was what penguins did with their spare time. Biz wasn’t in the right frame of mind to figure anything out. They chased, and Biz ran.

He was not in good shape. His leg felt numb from where it had whacked into a fire hydrant during his last escape. His wig had something in it that wasn’t comfortable at all. It jangled with each panicked footstep. One of his arms wasn’t functioning correctly after he had written that sign. Plus the side of his face was kept tickling without explanation.

Biz made it around another corner. He would go back to the park and hide in the bushes until the world made sense again. He would then crawl back to his home and contemplate a change of career, or at least a change of friends. There were colors in the air that shouldn’t be. Plus something was crawling around under his shirt and had been all morning.

Habitually he reached inside his shirt and pulled out a small black square. On the front was a picture of his friend from last night. The one who had put such strange substances in his drinks.

There was a green button, that would do something, and a red button, which also did something. Biz pressed the green one out of habit and put the black box up to his ear.

“Doug! Man! Are you okay?” The voice on the other end of the phone said. Biz was having a hard time running and talking. His breath came in gasps and he frequently ran into more objects, thus increasing the damage to his limbs.

“There’s penguins after me!” Biz yelled.

“What? Are you still tripping?”

“And bees! And a giraffe yelled at me!” Biz supplied further information in hopes of salvation.

“What? What do they look like?”

“They’ve got stars, and boxes they use to talk to their penguin overlords, and one smacked the other with a fish!”

“Are you sure you’re not being chased by the cops?”


“Are you sure…” Biz hit the side of a railing. His phone flew away and off into the street nearby. Soon a giant rhino ran over it with an angry howl of noise. The clown put his hands up and once more had the sensation of something not being right.

“Gotcha!” Something large and heavy tackled him. Biz had enough time to see numbers on the shiny golden badge as he hit the ground hard.

“Oh.” Biz said with a misplaced sense of calm. “You’re not Penguins.” His eyes seemed to be rolling back in their head. One leg jerked and kicked wildly as he was wrestled onto his belly.

“Yeah right buddy, like I haven’t heard that before. This guy thought we were penguins.” Biz thought it was only a fair assumption. These men were wearing black clothes. The other penguin chuckled and stomped over to Biz. Biz, for his part, felt exhausted enough to fall onto the ground.

So he did, by sliding to the ground one segment at a time. Soon his face was pressed against the ground as his mind tried to make sense of everything that had just happened. He had been chased by bees and penguins, kicked out by a giraffe. He’d convinced a herd of meerkat’s to hide in their homes down in the subway. Then been chased by a rhino with a glowing horn. Now he was going to be turned into some penguins Biz-ch.

The penguins, or police, probably found this sort of thing commonplace. For Biz, it was hardly in his top ten worst days.

“You’re under arrest for indecent exposure. You have the right to remain silent…” The list went on. His arms were jerked together behind his back. Biz was happy. He finally figured out what was wrong with his current ensemble. Mirth escaped in gasps.

Biz had no pants on.

Well.  I tried.  Humor is not within my skill set at all.