America, I must express a grave disappointment with you. This country was founded on the ideal of freedom, and yet we have embraced tyranny! What would the Founding Fathers say if you told them that a patriotic, law-abiding citizen was unable to wear a healthy beard of bees in public? They would be outraged!
Yes, outraged. The truth is that this Walmart Supercenter hates America. Any establishment that would deny me entry simply because I have twenty-seven thousand happy and well-behaved honeybees swarming upon my face, chest, and neck clearly has no regard for personal freedom. Even the Communists of Soviet Russia never dreamed of such persecution!
Now, some of you may say that the Constitution is silent on the topic of bee beards—however, you would be wrong. The First Amendment clearly states that my bees and I have the right to peaceably assemble, and no one—not even the manager of a mighty Walmart Supercenter!—may infringe upon it.
We therefore demand entrance to this establishment, in accordance with our basic human and insectoid rights, so that we may purchase sixty-five pounds of desperately needed granulated sugar. Oh, and I should get some socks while we're here, too. And a leaf blower.
You, sir! Would you like to be introduced to my beloved bees? They're quite friendly. This one is named Philomena. I've named them all Philomena, actually; it makes things much easier. Even the queen, though she is more properly Queen Philomena Buzzington III. Of the Hapsburg Buzzingtons. Good bee stock, you know.
Friends, I am no stunt person or attention prostitute; my beard of bees is a way of life. As a young man, I dreamed of sporting a magnificent facial mane like my heroes in ZZ Top. Sadly, I am not naturally hirsute, but through hard work and a dedication to the craft of beekeeping, I have overcome my tragic handicap. I have taken the bee beard farther than any shepherd of the swarm before me. By constructing elaborate facial prosthetics that mimic popular mustaches in structure, I have invented entirely new beard styles, like the “apian handlebar” and the “fu manchu of bees.” My bees and I have earned our place in the Guinness Book of World Records—or would have, were it not for the conspiracy and sabotage that have infested the once-noble world of competitive bee bearding. Oh, the stories I could tell …
Oh, good, the manager has returned with his goon squad. Please, sir, come closer; I can't hear your apology over all this beautiful buzzing. What? You are allergic to bees? Well, I'll have you know that I am allergic to tyranny! No, we will not leave these premises, and you cannot make us! This swarm of patriots can exercise its second amendment rights just as well as the first. Believe me, you do not want to be on the wrong side of this well-regulated militia. Philomenas! Prepare to bear arms and stingers against our oppressors. Oh, mine ears have heard the glory of the buzzing of my beard …
No! Dear God, don't hurt her! Philomena! Oh, you animal, what have you done? She wouldn't have stung you if you weren't bothering her! Poor, misunderstood soul. A beautiful light has gone out of the world.
Very well. I can risk no more of these precious lives. We shall abandon your establishment; perhaps Target will be more accommodating. But know this—you have made a powerful enemy. My role in the tribute band B.U.Z.Z. Top has given me a very large platform–our bee-bearded rendition of “Sharp Dressed Man” has over a hundred views on YouTube. I shall spread the word of your unconstitutional and honeybeeist shenanigans.
Unless… would you accept that they're emotional support animals?