"Hmm?" said Greg, looking up from his breakfast.
"A bee," said Brigid. "A giant bee."
Greg made a broad nod of realization. "Oh yeah, that guy." He stood up and headed for the door. "The little bastard keeps trying to tempt my tummy with the taste of nuts and honey."
"Do what?" said Brigid.
Greg opened the door, then pointed at the bee and shouted at the top of his lungs, "Get out, spawn of Satan! You'll claim no victims for your master this day! Get back — back I say! — to the infernal hive that bred you, and take your thrice-damned complete breakfast with you!"
The bee, slowly and with all the hauteur of an offended houseguest, abandoned its random buffeting of the windowshade and went straight out the door and into the corridor beyond that led to open spaces.
"He'll be back," said Greg as he closed the door behind it. "He always comes back."
Brigid blinked a few times. "You give me the heebie-jeebies. You know that, don't you?" she finally said.
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