Monologue: I am a Pollinator.
Did you just try to hit me? Seriously?
See that sunflower over there? I own that baby. And every other flower in this field. So when you mindlessly swat at me or try to squish me like the bug that I am, YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU ARE GETTING YOURSELF INTO.
I am a Pollinator. You see, my job is basically to make sure you get to eat. Let me connect the dots for you, you brainless twat.
I, along with my 10 katrillion other brethren, (in this field alone) stretching back to my great-to-the-billionth power grandfather Jared or Jonah or some other biblical-as-shit name, are the first link on what you simplistically call your “food chain.” That’s right, numb nuts, it begins with the bug. Actually, it begins with the seed, but I don’t need to lecture you on basic botany. OR DO I???
Let me put this in the simplest goddamn terms possible: I transfer pollen from my bro’s anther to my ladies stigma. I’m basically the Edwards and Steptoe of the plant world. But they're not handing out Nobel’s to the bumblebees performing IVF every single moment of every single day. The entire world gets food because of me. All they got was Louise Brown.
And I’m not the only one doing this work - this planet is full of pollinators, and not just of the insect or bird variety. For godssake, kinkajous and lemurs are pollinators! I don’t even know what the hell a kinkajou is. But they have my respect.
And all of this is so you can drink your pansy ass almond milk smoothies. Because numbers don’t lie, dip shit: one out of every three bites of food you cram into your piehole comes to you courtesy of the blood, sweat and angiosperms of a Pollinator. 80% of the world’s crop species require P-O-L-L-I-N-A-T-I-O-N to set seed. 80%! We are NOT fucking around here.
Do I seem angry? Well, between the Round-Up and a little thing we call Genetically Mother Fucking Modified Organisms, we in the insect world are feeling a tad put upon by you morons. You think Roanoke was a shit show? Welcome to MY Colony Collapse. The fact is, if I go, you eventually go.
So the next time you feel “annoyed” by the “bugs” as you take your pathetic shitbit walk through MY field, remember this: I AM A POLLINATOR. Back the fuck off.
by Christine Stevens