I turned got on my bike and pedaled as fast as I could back. I remembered the stump the puddles, then I got to a split and I hesitated before turning. In that split second, I looked up and what did I see, the bird house. I quickly blasted through the briars and ran up to the front door of his house.
Screaming, (name here) IS GETTING STUNG! The father and brother stormed out of the house and ran up the path yelling for the son...the mother comes out with water, frantic, wanting to run in to her son. I explained what happened and just as she was about to cry, they came running out with a few bees still intact on all of them. Carrying my friend. The rest was a blur, cars skidding out and the bike ride home, not until I got home and explained to my Mom what happened.
About an hour later, the phone rings, He is ok. I don't remember the exact number of times he got stung, but the "oh, dear god" and the fact I don't remember seeing him the rest of the summer, I'd guess it was buttload!
I didn't have to explain how I got out. I would have anyways, but that one sentence and seeing the bird house at almost the same time stuck with me. Signs are everywhere If you look. It could be as simple of a bird house or the wisdom of your mother. I saved his life, and he wouldn't be the first.
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