Thank you for coming, ladies and gents. I appreciate the time, and I think you will too. I so enjoyed working with you on the militant-slaying, polar bear-grizzly bear hybrid last week that I thought I’d present you with something similar this week.
I think I might have figured out a way to stop the alarming spread of Africanized, or “killer,” bees throughout North America. Allow me to present the Dawson’s bee. All we have to do is make a hybrid out of this guy and a killer bee, get him set up in killer bee society and let him do his thing. It’ll be kind of like the new movie “Avatar,” only with bees and a lot more killing and sex.
If I could show you one, you would notice that the Dawson’s is larger than your average bee. This is because he is built for fighting with other Dawson’s bees, and he just might be the most aggressive and most desperate fellow on the planet.
He, like virtually every dangerous animal on the planet, is Australian, making his home in the harsh climate of the outback. He nests in holes dug into the parched soil rather than in a hive, hibernating to escape the most extreme conditions.
The competition for females amongst Dawson’s bees is so intense that the males will get up from hibernation earlier than the females each year, and the larger males will wait by the burrows of the female bees, hoping to mate with them the moment they emerge.
The smell of the awakening females sends the male bees into a frenzy, and soon they start fighting each other. Clumps of bees will form, with each one biting and stinging another, and mass murder ensues. Generations of male bees are slaughtered, and a lone victor survives to carry off the female and mate with her.
I say we make a hybrid of the Dawson’s bee and the Africanized bee and let it go kill all the male killer bees and plunder all their women. After just a few generations there’d be nothing but hybrids left, and they’d just go right on killing each other forever.
Given science’s track record of introducing species to new regions, I see no way that this plan could fail. The odds that this would instead lead to giant swarms of oversized, aggressive killers are pretty slim, and besides, if you’re not allergic you have to get stung about 100 times to really die.
To me, though, solving our killer bee problem is just the start. Think of all the other practical applications this could lead to. I’m going to start a whole pharmaceutical industry just selling products made with Dawson’s bee extract.
I want to figure out a way to distill the essence of the victorious male Dawson’s bees and sell it in a liquid form. There are thousands of baseball players, football players, track stars, cyclists and weight lifters who’d pay out the wazoo — and by sticking a needle in their wazoo, I might add — for a legal performance-enhancing supplement with that sort of potency.
And what married guy wouldn’t want his wife taking Dawson’s bee pills? According to a recent BBC news story, 90 percent of all female Dawson’s have sex the moment they emerge from their burrow. Let me repeat that so men don’t think they were dreaming: Ninety percent of female Dawson’s bees have sex as soon as they wake up.
Since we all know there are never any adverse side effects to all the drugs we take, and since guns are so hard to obtain in America, I think we can all agree that there is virtually no danger of anyone getting hopped up on Dawson’s bee extract and going on a murderous rampage. Even so, just to be on the safe side, I think we should probably keep it out of the hands of terrorists and postal workers.
And really, what’s the worst that could happen if things did somehow go awry? OK, sure, if we’re being honest there’s a tiny, tiny chance that giving men Dawson’s bee extract could lead to almost every man in America being killed. But even that would have a silver lining.
You see, ironically enough, once mating season has ended, and the carnage is over, and most of the aggressive males are dead, the Dawson’s bee females and young, docile males form a very harmonious and peaceful colony. Hard to believe, isn’t it?