I hereby declare that I am officially the only person to have ever been stung by a bee.
On the right pinky finger.
At 5 in the morning.
While lying in bed.
This was the result, perhaps, of opening my window the night before because it had gotten so warm that my bedroom was stuffy. I can only assume that at some point the little thing found a crack in the screen or something. But there I was early Saturday, having only gone to bed an hour or so earlier, waking up with a weird feeling along my side. I moved my hand to pick up whatever it was and suddenly felt a stab on my finger. I thought I cut myself on some sort of metal object (although what it could have been and how it got into my bed, who knows). I freaked out, did a combined swatting/throwing motion, jumped up, turned on the light and looked on the floor in the direction I swatted/threw, only to see nothing.
I looked at my finger. It was a bit red but I saw no cut. It sort of hurt, but it was a very odd feeling, like it was about to swell or go numb. I started to panic. I thought maybe some sort of exotic bedbug bit me and infected me with some sort of rare disease that was going to kill me. But nothing else happened in the next minute or so. I went into my bathroom and ran the finger under water. As if that would help. It wasn't even that cold. But I wasn't going downstairs to get ice.
Finally I started to settle down and got back into bed. As I lay there I started imaging more things on me. On my leg, my arms, my back...then I realized something actually was under me. I freaked out again, jumping up and turning on the light, and then finally seeing the cause of all my troubles. The bee was pretty mangled, between my swatting at it and then lying down on it, but still sort of alive. I grabbed a paper towel, picked it up and crushed it, and tossed it away.
Seriously. This is my life.
*Disclaimer: bee may not have actually been a killer, seeing as how I'm not dead.