"What Fire Will My Father Never Be?"

So she thought she could avoid the most embarrassing question, which she had no desire to answer at all. But I, newly promoted explorer, was not fooled and flew to her. I demanded an answer, in the name of the right to origin. Who was my father? What drone had allowed my precious little life to be on Earth? I knew it would not be at all easy to find out. Because you have to admit that we bees always try to treat drones as... as drones, you know. They are second class, compared to us females, there's little we can do about it. But I was determined to find out the truth, even if I was forced to subject my alleged father to a DNA test, as a lot of VIP children have had to do. Who knows, maybe my father was a VIP too!.

So, I went to see my mother, who had just returned, as the case may be, from a wedding flight: "There is no mother without a father and there is no father without a mother, and especially without a relationship between mother and father", I told her. You must know that I had studied by heart the phrase of a French psychoanalyst, René Roussillon. When you want to achieve something, better be prepared! "I beg your pardon?" mum replied, feigning astonishment. 'Angie, what do you want to tell me? I am well aware that among my 48,943 children you are undoubtedly the most bizarre, but I really don't understand what you are getting at this time." "OK, then I'll ask you more directly: who is my father?".

"Blessed child, and what do you want me to know? I've already done who knows how many nuptial flights... you meet so many drones, you know how it is, I have to do my duty, every time there are 12-15 so pretty, one word leads to another...". "Yes, mother, but this is not just about words! I have a right to know my father." "Honey, I'd like to help you, but I really can't. I just remember that...ah, such good memories!" There she is with a dumbfounded look, her eyes wide. "I can tell you that during that time there were three that I saw a few more times than the others...". "I want names!", I shouted at her. James, Furio, Mauro. Whatever, that's already a starting point. So I searched for them, among lavender and chestnut flowers, and of course, thanks to some informants, I found them. Each of them was subjected to a barrage of questions that not even at the police station, I swear!

James was the first. Elegant as hell, he fluttered, needless to say, from flower to flower. "Baby, you look great with that pout, has anyone ever told you that?" was his approach. "Look dude, don't think you're trying to trick me, I'm not one to be fooled," I immediately thought. "Excuse me, but you could be my father," I replied. 'Honey, I know, you're much younger than me. But trust me, experience is a must try card, for a beautiful explorer like you! Shall we break the ice with a Martini Cocktail?" he smiled slyly. "A what?", "Juniper and other things, which I can explain more in private." He even winked at me! "Perhaps you didn't understand me. I meant it in a literal sense: she could be my father, the kelp that did the nuptial flight with my mother, the queen bee!".

"Hey there! What a surprise! A daughter? Darling, but how should I know? You may have guessed, I'm a man of the world, a day here, a day there... of queen bees I've known many. Your mother was very, very pretty, I remember that well. But before you were born, I was on a mission in Sardinia, so it is impossible that I am your father'. I must have had a very disappointed look on my face. He smiled at me, tenderly: 'Cucciola, don't be afraid. Even without a father, an explorer like you will do just fine. Courage! You want me to tell you something? I would have loved to have a feisty daughter like you, you know?". Bye bye James.

I looked for Furio. "Miss, excuse me, but at exactly 5.54pm I have to be behind the mauve holes. If now, at 5.45pm, you make me lose five minutes, you will understand well that I would be late, won't you?" "Well, as a matter of fact, yes." "There, so you see it's mutual then? Let me through." "Wait, I just need to ask you a question!" "What kind of question? I don't like the unexpected, I mark everything in my diary. If you are a journalist, call me tomorrow morning at 6.32am sharp, I'll give you 22 minutes and then I'll run because at 6.59am I have to be near the pond for an appointment." "I am not a journalist, but I could be your daughter, if you knew my mother, the queen bee...".

"Excuse me, but I have to call my lawyer right away and also my general practitioner. The data you submit is very upsetting to me, I am sensitive and I could suffer health consequences. I have never gone on a wedding flight without writing down all the names and dates in my diary. Let me check...what's your mother's name? No, dear. That's impossible. At the time of her birth I wasn't so well and I was at mummy's house getting treatment. And now excuse me, but I have to go. If I fly from here to the oak tree in exactly 45 seconds, at 5.54 p.m. I won't miss my appointment with the physiotherapist for that little pain in the wing that's bothering me so much, OK?" Oh, God! I can't take it any more! This bore better not be my father! .

That leaves Mauro, what surprises will he have in store for me? "No, girl, you're wrong. I cannot be your father. I am for free love, but for a long time I have only liked old bees, who don't make trouble and no longer procreate. My time as a parent is too far in the past. You don't have to look for your father in a drone, your father is the whole of nature, this you must understand! What need do you have for one who would then perhaps clip your wings? Do as I do: suck some nectar, study some strategies against herbicides and don't give a damn about social impositions! Families are just cages of hypocrisy'.

So, I resigned myself. I will never find out who my father is. I am mine! The end. Yes, yes, it's true, something probably doesn't add up for you and you're right... How can the queen perform more than one nuptial flight and how can Angie go in search of her father, when we know full well that poor drones, after mating with the queen bee, die? Angie may be a feisty warrior bee, but such news would shock even the most ruthless of bumblebees... Besides, what can you do... The queen bee, by dint of pumping herself up with royal jelly and the passing years, is beginning to lose some of her punch!