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Here's the truth of what I know about Randolph. The first thing is that he hates the name Randolph. You can call him Ralph or by the name he prefers, Sinister Bee. The second thing is he believes he's already dead. He told me he died in a traffic accident when he was five, back in 97.224Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8eUlvl92Bg
I met Ralph about two weeks into my sophomore year at Kent. He was sleeping under a shagbark tree in front of the CVS near Portage Street. I stopped to put some coins in a little cup, that was resting against his leg. The cup had a small cardboard label that read, Flies to the Honey.224Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIr0tlovyic
On a whim, I decided to donate some change. As soon the coins hit the bottom of the cup, Ralph opened his eyes and sat straight up, like a zombie corpse rising out of a coffin. He grinned at me. I remember that grin; it was full of swagger, confidence, bravado and for a brief moment, cruelty. His hair was auburn and hung in braided ropes to his shoulders. His nose was long and hooked and resembled a crow's beak. And his flesh was crimson and sprinkled with mushroom colored freckles. He picked up the cup and shook it and invited me back to his place for a cup of tea.224Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPwqAplTW36
Ralph's apartment was in the basement of an old apartment building on Greensburg. It was a concrete cube studio with the sewage and water pipes running exposed along the ceiling. There were three small windows that poured reflected light into the room. It was incredibly humid from hundreds of tropical plants, which were lined against the walls and from three enormous glass tanks that housed gold spotted turtles.224Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfzZ0gn9yp4
I remember descending the old wooden stairs in the apartment and the thick moist air, infused with the scent of soil and damp moss, mingled with the sweet and tangy aroma of tropical flowers, wrapped around me like a blanket. It was intoxicating.224Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnAXPbzlnpW
Insects of all kinds flew in and out of the open windows. They buzzed around Ralph as if they were in a Tawaf trance. Circling in unison and at a continuous speed, they formed a dark halo around his head.224Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgD0rgEmPYG
We sat in the middle of the room on a giant Persian rug and drank from clay mugs. The rug was ripe with the sent of exotic incense and ash. My head swam and danced from the strong pungent tea. I noticed a large bumble bee fly into the room and dart straight for a large wooden crate in the corner under the stairs. As I looked closer, I could see a swarm of bees flying around and covering the crate.224Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ59a9pbHS81
I asked Ralph what was in the crate. He smiled and took my hand. He smelled like over-ripe honeysuckle. The sent oozed from his skin and covered my hand in a thin film of fragrance. He lifted me up from the rug and I suddenly felt very dizzy. I swooned back and forth as Ralph led me to the crate.224Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQCCavZXw77
The crate was seven feet long and three feet wide and high. The wood was old and stained with oil. The bees parted as we approached.224Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRWytqAPvV2
“This is where I sleep,” Ralph explained. “Would you like to see inside?”224Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLFmAp5h70p
I think I nodded, but my eyesight was blurry and the smell of raw earth and thick pollen was overwhelming.224Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiR9yE0vvuY
Ralph lifted the heavy lid and I caught a glance of a thick barbed, meaty flower. That is when I blacked out.224Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyQigtFui7n
