I don’t like my neighbor, Ife.

He always seems to have everything he wants. For one his house is a corner-piece; one of those fine units at the curve of the street, which means he has more space for a large pool. He also has a trophy wife and even his rose garden is perfect too. In fact, the grass on Ife’s lawn is actually greener than mine. I checked.

Of course I didn’t let on my antipathy towards him; after all we share a picket fence. So whenever we see each other and he waves at me, I wave back and pretend to smile but I curse him under my breath. How can anyone be that lucky?

In spite of his busy lifestyle, Ife has a favorite pastime- his honey bees. Most times, I watch surreptitiously from my window while he immerses himself deeply in the art of managing his apiary. He always looks so self-satisfied, much to my ire. I once started an anonymous petition among the estate residents to have it disallowed but it was quashed- “no plausible harm” they said. I wasn’t surprised, I suppose he had bribed them all with some honey anyway.

So last night, I planned to steal as much honey as I possibly could. Stealthily, I approached one of the hives in his backyard- it was midnight but I was careful, stealing honey is risky business especially when you are ill-dressed. I gently eased open the hive and directed the smoke-machine at the bees to immobilize them. But nothing happened.

I checked it and to my dismay, I discovered that the nozzle had jammed! Hundreds of angry bees swarmed at me as I tried in vain to swat them off. I was a man with too much exposed skin and too few hands to protect myself.

Today at the ER, the doctors spent all morning extracting several bee stingers from my inflamed skin…

Karma is a Bee-tch!!