how i got covered in bees

so there was this plum just sitting there on grandma as she slept in the chair, ripe in her claws and only partially eaten. i was sad that day due to Maury paternity tests, and my belly growled from said sadness. all of the creamed ice had been consumed by jerks, and the marmalade was rusted shut. there was a honey bear in the sideboard, but honey made me sad because my beagle's name was Honey and she was a total brat. and, besides, she was dead. being resourceful from years of service to the warden, which did not include kissing, i devised a plan to abscond with the plum, which was my yen. and i involved no killing - my other yen. i grabbed aforementioned honey bear and, with a mammoth grip, squeezed its contents onto grandma, thinking i could then snatch her fruit booty.

"Shanks!" i squealed inexplicably as the honey bath awakened her. the rest of the story was unplanned. grandma hopped up and headbutted me viciously, smashing the nearest lamp about my head and shoulders and tackling me with the force of three warthogs, covering me in honey and knocking me through the open window.

dazed, i burped a little and then heard the buzzing.

a canary is pecking at my eye.