I didn't write this.

Bees. Swarming buzzing bees. Tickling temperamental bees. Bees withpointy painful stingers. The boy poured honey down his back and shook his buttocks left to right.The naked crazy boy. He passed by the beehives, jogging not running. Takinghis sweet innocent time, through the grass, toward the white perfumy cloverfield. The bees rose in a fuzzy brown boil, filtered out their hive, cleavedthe air like an arrow aiming for honey-dripping bare-bummed Johnny. LittleJohnny boy smiled broad and white, his feet advancing toward the clover, tossinghis hips from side to side, breathless voice issuing forth, "Beeeeez.Zzzzzzzhahahahahaaaaaaaa." Little Johnny boy slipped a finger between his perspiring crack, takingaway honey as if from the stale edges of a white bread sandwich. Johnny lovedthe bees, almost as much as the sticky sweet clinging of honey that formed andhung like stalactites from his perineum, dripped dripping drops. The bees closed in. Thousands of bees, their murmuring buzzing chorustitillating little Johnny boy, stingers angry and shining in the sun, quiveringmad. Johnny jogged toward the clover field, licking his finger of the sweetsweaty honey. Honeybuns, Johnny thought, and laughed until he fell rolling overthe start of clover. Honeybuns, thought Johnny, and he laughed, giggled, asmile playing over his bare freckled puss. "Beeeeeeez!" Johnny exclaimed, as afuzzy buzzing cloud converged on little Johnny's honey sticky ass. The sun rolled in golden fury, and hours later, when it had turned a darkred, and sunset swollen, little Johnny boy lay stiff and puffy, pink and happy,dead stinking sweet.

http://www.superbad.com/1/man/superbee.html