The Sting Operation

John and Dorian were uniformed. John hadn't worked in a uniform in over eight years, but he was learning an important lesson about anger management from Captain Maldonado. Namely, that he was one more injured or dead MX away from walking a beat again.

For today's punishment, he was working a crowd at an Easter event in the middle of a park, watching children run around in frilly dresses and way-too-grown up suits. Dorian was having a great time; he even liked the uniform. John felt like one of the little boys running around them, dressed up to make an impression.

"Cheer up, John," Dorian said. "It's a beautiful day."

John glared away from the sun. "Haven't been in a monkey suit in a long time."

"I think you look handsome," Dorian said calmly, smiling out the side of his mouth.

The dewy grass on John's shiny shoes and pant cuffs added to his suffering as he watched a child stumble blindly around a brightly colored egg without seeing it. If it was a snake it would have bit him. Daydreaming, John thought about how cool it would be if all the eggs had baby snakes in them, ready to spring out at any moment.

A buzzing noise in his ear distracted his impish thoughts and John dipped and swatted at the air.

"Ouch! Ffff—ffff—ah" John stuttered, remembering not to curse in front of the children and gripping at his neck.

The bee sting seared with pain and he held his hand over it while waiting for the burn to pass.

Dorian looked concerned, as did a group of mothers standing nearby in their pastel cardigans. Several approached, taking charge of the situation, swarming around John in a protective circle.

One woman peeled John's hand forcibly off his neck and inspected the angry red welt. "Stinger's still in there," she announced, digging through her handbag.

The woman beside her whistled. "It's really swelling. Are you allergic to bees, sweetie?"

John looked wide-eyed, searching for an escape. "Dorian?" he called out, "Dee!"

"He is allergic," he heard Dorian announce from behind the wall of mothers. There was a gasp and chatter from the pack of concerned mothers.

"Where is your EpiPen, honeybunny?" another woman asked, already patting down his pockets, looking for it. Her hands were all over him, making him squirm.

John felt his throat swelling, adding to the panic of the situation. He shook his head desperately and managed to squeak out, "Don't have one."

There was a collective sigh from the women around him and they began to lecture about how foolish that was while simultaneously devising a plan.

The first woman celebrated with a loud, "Ah-ha!" while still searching her purse and pulled out a pair of tweezers. "Hold still, pun'kin," she said, "let me pull that stinger out."

He twisted toward freedom and immediately felt a host of strong hands on him, steadying him. The woman tenderly dug the stinger out with her tweezers and then showed it to him. "Look at that, it was a big one!"

John was wheezing for air, looking for an escape.

"I found an EpiPen," another mom said, having run to her car to retrieve it. The troupe of mothers made a path for her as she hurried towards him. "Hold still, sweetiepie, this will only sting for a minute." John felt the pinch of a needle against his thigh. It hurt like hell as she held it there, letting the medicine release.

He was escorted—or rather, dragged and pushed—by his entourage of mothers to a nearby picnic table, where he was told to sit down and then forced to sit down. There wasn't much room for argument with this group.

As the swelling went down, John found himself drinking a juice box while someone patted his hand and told him he should really carry his own EpiPen if he is that allergic. Someone else was asking if the injection site still hurt while two sets of hands on his neck inspected the bee sting and assessed the swelling, little tut tut noises coming from all directions.

Glowering at Dorian who still stood on duty across the park, John sipped the sickeningly sweet juice from the waxy, cardboard pouch and decided that he'd never ever piss off Sandra Maldonado ever again.