Not For Sale

Uncle Ted’s Bee Vomit is not for sale. It was regurgitated at considerable effort by tens of thousands of Uncle Ted’s closest friends that regard commerce as vulgar.

And even if it was for sale, what would he charge? How do you put a price on the view from a mountaintop at dawn? The caress of summer rain in the forest? The smell of a rainbow? You can’t, so he doesn’t try.

And yet, on rare occasions, Uncle Ted bestows a jar upon that unique human deemed worthy of such a blessed gift (worthiness is determined by a committee of bees who are, as a rule, not impressed).

So, make your case. Tell him, in as many or as few words as possible, why you, above all the other eight billion humans on the planet, deserve a jar of this liquid love, the sweetest bee vomit east of Hawaii and slightly north of regret.

If your plea moves the hive, a jar may magically appear at your door — unannounced, unexplained, faintly sticky. It has happened. Rarely, but it will almost certainly happen again. Just probably not to you, so do not count on it. But it’s worth a shot.