Bee Mugs and Bacon

There was a bee on the mug.

Not a real bee. A sort of stylized round thing, cheerfully ribboned and capped with a squiggly “stinger” that looked more like a piece of dropped thread than a biological weapon.

Death stared at it for a long time, his mismatched purple gaze fixated on the gold and black stripes, on the dot-and-line combo that gave the bee an incongruously human expression of contentment.

Buy me a Coffee


An absurd story based off a prompt about… breakfast?