According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly.
Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground.
The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don鈥檛 care what humans think is impossible.
Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black.
Ooh, black and yellow!
Let鈥檚 shake it up a little.
Barry! Breakfast is ready!
Coming!
Hang on a second.
Hello?
Barry?
Adam? Can you believe this is happening? I can鈥檛. I鈥檒l pick you up. Looking sharp. Use the stairs, Your father paid good money for those. Sorry. I鈥檓 excited. Here鈥檚 the graduate. We鈥檙e very proud of you, son. A perfect report card, all B鈥檚. Very proud. Ma! I got a thing going here. You got lint on your fuzz. Ow! That鈥檚 me! Wave to us! We鈥檒l be in row 118,000. Bye! Barry, I told you, stop flying in the house! Hey, Adam. Hey, Barry. Is that fuzz gel? A little. Special day, graduation. Never thought I鈥檇 make it. Three days grade school, three days high school. Those were awkward. Three days college. I鈥檓 glad I took a day and hitchhiked around The Hive. You did come back different. Hi, Barry. Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good. Hear about Frankie? Yeah. You going to the funeral?