(Author’s Note: Getting busy. Getting my writing on. Boomba. Enjoy this song throwback!)
by Miles H. Rost
Francine Jameson called out to her husband, waving her arms frantically as he rushed over.
“I found a great specimen! I think this old comb is one from the 1990s.”
Her husband picked it up and examined it.
“I think this is the one from when we first met.”
She smiled at him broadly. “I’m glad we came back here.”
He pulled her close and smiled. “Except this time, you don’t have 500 bees and a nest next to you, pestering you.”
“Well, if you didn’t save me, those bees would have got me.”
“And instead, it was me who got you.”