It was just a typical day of first period study hall. To my right sat the essentially-diseased carcass of my friend who was in the middle of his routine nap that he prefaces by exclaiming that “nap-thirty” has arrived. To my left sat a group with an inordinate amount of orange juice patches chatting and slurping away. In my hands sat a PSP, and in front of me sat a buddy that was about to become the most recent victim to my so-good-they-should-be-illegal skills at Crash Tag Team Racing.
For the first chunk of the period, all was calm save for the frustrated slamming of the desk by the poor soul whom I’d severely out raced. He began the act of throwing his “disappointment of a PSP” across the room when, all the sudden, a loud screech from the back table stopped him from doing so.
“What’s going on? Someone please help! This is too much!”
This was followed by intense sobbing that could probably be heard as far away as the math hallway. Everyone one looked over to see that self-proclaimed Wii Sports boxing superstar Bob Burgundy was the source of the distress signal. Concerned, people around the distraught Burgundy started asking her what he was upset about.
“There’s… there’s just so many of them,” Burgundy said. “So many cheesy bee jokes, so many cringey lines of dialogue. So much Jazz, man. Too much. Message after message. They won’t stop coming. It hurts.”
Mass hysteria filled the room as everyone searched for a solution as to what was happening. That’s when someone at Burgundy’s table managed to recognize what it was that was being sent.
“My God,” proclaimed Juke Boxero, the man behind the breakthrough. “It’s… it’s the entire Bee Movie Script! Someone get some holy water! That’s the only way this can be stopped!”
Alas, nobody had any holy water on hand. Offers of bottles of Dasani simply weren’t enough. The phone buzzed over and over and over for the entirety of the rest of the period, leaving students at a loss.
When asked by a counselor who was called to the scene to try to calm things down, Burgundy described himself as feeling as if he was in a “glass case of emotion,” clearly overwhelmed by the situation. The counselor started breaking down himself when he heard the details.
Think North Korea and their arsenal of super-soakers coupled with the strongest five-foot-traveling missiles that you’ve ever seen was scary? Well, as Sandy Cheeks once famously proclaimed, “Think again.” There’s a new threat in town, and his name is Barry B. Benson.
What exactly started this new form of terrorism in the form of overwhelming one’s phone with what has been described by victims as an “infinite” amount of messages? Nobody’s entirely sure. But, the movement has spread like wildfire. Friends have even started sending this bee-wildering line of texts amongst themselves, resulting in many cases of completely shattered trust beyond repair.
As of now, I’ve been one of those fortunate enough to avoid receiving the script in it’s entirety. Someone did attempt to send me it, however, but once I saw the words “according to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly,” I knew exactly what was going on and blocked the sender. Jokes on you, Mom. I bet you didn’t even remember I could do that. Can’t text me to do the dishes if I have you blocked, either.