This would be my most empirical debacle in the abstract to date — a bumblebee clocked into epic life by itself, on its own, having its own quarrel in-side. I’m certain its lack of manners or historicity is a flaw like vetiver too broadly smeared over the heartthrob, not to be a Lebowski. 

Not mad but apeshit, the bee shoots for an exit to the coast  
hitting the surface in lithe shorthand coupled with fast  
puffiness and a black-to-yellow color of sane amalgamation.