The Honey Heist
A moonlit apiary on the volcanic slopes of Mount Etna at 2:40 AM, where 112 wooden hives hum like a single sleeping engine and the air tastes like sulfur and wildflower.
A retired Sicilian beekeeper has offered Double and Bust his entire operation — hives, land, the 'Etna Gold' brand, and a cellar of high-end volcanic honey worth roughly €95,000 — for the absurd price of €8,000 cash, tonight only, no paperwork until morning. The catch: he says the bees have been 'agitated' since last Tuesday's tremor, and three of his neighbors have already evacuated due to increased seismic activity. The ground beneath their feet is warm.
“The bees are still here, and bees are basically tiny geniuses. If they're not leaving, I'm not leaving. We'll be honey moguls by breakfast.”
“He's selling a volcano farm at a 92% discount in the middle of the night and your due diligence is 'the bees seem chill'?”
At 4:17 AM, a fissure opened sixty meters upslope and a slow river of lava swallowed hives 34 through 112 like birthday candles on a hot stove. The bees — those tiny geniuses — had actually begun absconding en masse around 3 AM, which Double would have noticed if he hadn't been in the beekeeper's cellar taste-testing the 'Etna Gold' reserve with a wooden spoon.
Technically we still had the cellar honey until the roof caved in, so for about twenty minutes I WAS a honey mogul.
I want 'your due diligence is the bees seem chill' on my headstone, because this man is going to get me killed eventually.