Apiphobia! My terrifying encounter with the Killer Bees

A post at the I Hate Horses blog prompted this humiliating recollection from my youth. Naturally, I reproduce it here.

I was maybe eight or nine, and it was the golden age of the WWF's national expansion. I saw an promo for the Wrestling Hotline during of the Saturday-morning programs, and curiosity got the better of me. I dialed the 976 number (and took a hiding from my mom for doing so when the phone bill eventually came in).

The phone picked up. "This is B. Brian Blair!" "And this is Jumping Jim Brunzell!" came the voices. Oh my god! It was the Killer Bees!

I was so panicked to be talking to the actual Killer Bees that I got flustered and hung up. I'd thought I'd just get some guy who worked backstage and had some info. Lord Alfred Hayes or Billy Red Lyons at most.

Finally, realizing that it was pretty rude to hang up on the Killer Bees, I thought I'd better call back and apologize. I took a deep breath. You can do this, I told myself. You can talk to the Killer Bees. I worked up the nerve and dialed. The phone rang.

The phone picked up. "This is B. Brian Blair!" "And this is Jumping Jim Brunzell!" came the voices, exactly as before. It was then that I realized I was talking to a recording (and yes, I probably did start actually talking before realization fully set in).

I felt like an idiot. I wasn't a grown man hanging around with his heterosexual life partner in matching bee-themed underwear, mind you. They were the ones who even dressed like bees in their off-hours, not me. But I still felt like an idiot.