Int. Car dealership-Day
A BEEKEEPER in a beekeeper’s getup sits across from a SALESPERSON. They’re in a cubicle, with sales awards, family photos, and knickknacks all over the place.
My friends ask me, “What are you doing buying a new car with a beekeeper’s salary?” but I say, “Hey, I earned it!” You know I don’t even take this suit off so I can spend more time with the bees? Besides, this hybrid’s good for the environment.
That it is. And what’s good for the environment is good for the bees. Speaking of which, if you want, we can customize the car so that the bees ride up front with you.
No, that’s my worst fear come true.
The salesperson takes a printout from a fax machine.
Looks like you’re approved for the loan.
Great. Do you hear that?
Like a buzzing sound.
Anyway, there’s not a lot of gas stations up near the colony–did you know we call them colonies? Not farms; colonies. And, anyway, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been so engrossed in bee thoughts that I plum run out of gas.
Well, this thing gets nearly 500 miles with a full tank, so you don’t have to worry about that.
Great! Are you sure you don’t hear anything?
Not a thing.
Alright. Oh! And don’t skip on the rust proofing–it gets real dewy in the morn’.
Usually I have to convince people to get the rust proofing.
Well you don’t have to convince me!
(laughs, then deadly serious)
Oh God: a bee is in the suit!
The beekeeper begins to scream and run around, punching at the suit and knocking things over. The beekeeper falls to the floor, thrashing about as if on fire. The salesperson stands off to the side, but when it starts to look as if the beekeeper is going out of the way to make a mess, the salesperson tries to intervene–about when the beekeeper has knocked everything off the desk, punched family photos across the stage, and messed up the salesperson’s outfit.
The two begin to tussle, but the beekeeper’s too much of a force. Soon the salesperson is on the floor and the beekeeper is off the stage, turning the theater lights on and off while the salesperson tries and fails to get up because there’s just too much slippery, slippery paper on the floor.
Then the beekeeper’s stomping on a smashed trophy, grabs a stapler, and begins to shoot at the salesperson. The beekeeper’s panting, slowing down, realizing what’s just happened, surveying the damage, one last staple fired…
It’s dead. Let’s talk safety features.