Vikki, 9.4k Followers
‘Beees!’
The following is an excerpt taken from esteemed intellectualiser and influencer/model Vikki’s memoirs of her trip to Burkina Faso.
Their insight was amazing. Butterflies flew overhead like the welcoming promise of a promising welcome, drenched in the sun-lit drench of the sun. They seemed to glimmer like glitter if you replaced the m’s with t’s. I kindly accepted the bowl of Coco Krispies even though the milk was slightly warm and marbled. I was, like, a sort of diplomat for the day.
Beees! a youngster screamed.
I remember turning back and seeing a millions or so bees in the distance hovering across the dust-caked mountains. It was as if a swarm of insects was approaching. I dropped my sugar cereal and fled to the nearest goat, hiding underneath it as if I were to suckle on its life-giving teat. I led the way to safety, even if nobody followed.
The goat nestled its body on top of my (award-winning) frame. Maybe the motherly nature of this creature dropped it instinctively to her knees in order to protect me. I’d like to think that because that is a pretty thought… one that fills me with fulfilling things. A shout from the children scared the goat away from on top of me. Shame, I liked that goat.
The bees disappeared and the butterflies returned. Their re-emergence reminded me of a long-lost journey I once took to the centre of my soul when I craved a Magnum but was presented a Twister. O innocent days! Long-clouded was the darkness of my ways then, an incomparable fever! Uncuff this torture with the dazzle of polished stones please, oh Kourtney!
Beees!
The bees came back as if doubting the apostolic warnings of my forebears and their plagues. They held within their ranks cautionary tales of models past—the red flags were as striking as an indubitable epilogue. Yes, indeed, my diplomacy was being tested for the day in vile premonitions, like the war trials of a squandered legacy. A misplaced misinformative mishap from miscreants of mischief.
Beees!
They circled the perimeter, like in Angry Birds, and colluded within their ranks, non-apologetic and plentiful. Oh what hath befouled these crisp airs of dirt, this threat of hurt? Though, I was still pert and the children full of mirth. And so I took off my shirt and flirt(ed) with this dirge. This was not dirty — I was merely serving the earthly fervour for my unearthly curves.
The bees suddenly stopped. Yes! Disaster dodged! I said:
“Oh dear bees. Let us not fight. We are one and the same. Bee gone, bee free, bee all you want to be… beees.”
The bees looked confused and the children from the earth of Burkina Faso took a step back.
Beees! a kid yelled and ran around the immediate enclosure on his own, hands a-flailing. The bees began chasing him, like, real bad, stopping when he ran out of breath and restarting as soon as he sped up again. I stood with the other locals, puzzled. I whispered to the group a gem, although the witticism didn’t go down too well with the village leader as he ordered the bees to chase me.
“Beees…,” I screamed.
I ran at full speed but ended up falling into a thick brush of stinging nettles face-first. Just, such an intriguing place.
So ends this excerpt of the Burkina Faso leg of Vikki’s philanthropic tour. Vikki shortly after set up fairly well-received profiles on both MySpace and Vine.
