Work and working at work

I wear a white collar noose. Please someone cut me down before the trap door renders me inert and adrift in an endless swing through a sea of stocks and bonds.

The Return

And the formerly inconspicuous drone returned through the hive's portal enshrouded in blinding, white light. The bees' heads and antennae turned in a great wave to take in the regal visage that had so suddenly interrupted their work. A hush fell over the droning buzz of the insects' domicile and even the tiny larvae, struggling to see through their yet unformed eyes, wormed through their incubatory cells to behold this event. Such a bee did not grace the hive every day.

"I once worked among you as a drone," the King Bee intoned. And though nature could never devise such a part of the insect caste to raise, this anomalous creature nonetheless stood gleaming and radiant in the mid-morning sun.
"How well do I remember shovelling honey into those easternly cells. Constructing chambers for the eggs that would become larvae, and defending the hive at a moment's notice from invaders. But I was indistinguishible from you. Unnoticed, disregarded, and insignificant. This could not stand forever, for I possessed the heart of a King."
And with this, the bee which had never before been within the world flexed its wings and sent a shudder throughout the entire hive. Larvae cried for mercy and drones clung to the ground.
"I will leave you now unharmed save for this injury of the spirit that I visit upon you: I give you the knowledge that your drone hearts will never lead you to a higher path than your present miserable course. You shall be forevermore trapped in this hive of your own devising.

And with that the first King Bee left the world of the drones and did not look back.

It's October 12 and it's snowing!

Hey pugnacioids,

I'm at the Hive. Therefore, I should not be blogging, but am. hehe. So, I've been two-fold concernervated in regards to my life of late. 1) I seem to be allergic to something because oft when I eat foods nowadays my throat feels implosive and I have a mild freak out session. I plan on modifying this condition with the assistance of the witches and hoodoo practicioners of my local allergy clinic. 2) I fear that the discomfort of subsistence living coupled with the unpleasant realities of the real world of Theatre/entertainment will dissuade me from my path to inevitable Limelight Glory Conquest (tm). I don't want to be one of those lame-asses who quit after a meagre one year of struggle. But I am also a soft rasberry-jelly of a man and dislike discomfort intensely.

Thoughts?

M