Albert the Pollen Farmer
Albert was a pollen farmer, some unkind bugs used the derogatory term “pollen dealer”, but Albert didn’t see it that way. His fellow flies wondered why he didn’t just stick with the waste disposal industry, like most of his kin, but Albert was different. He harboured thoughts of being rich, and pollen was the new nectar of the masses. Sure, it was considered illegal to possess more than a certain quantity if you were a fly, but he had considered the risk reward ratio carefully. . He often bemoaned the fact that he didn’t have stripes and therefore the legal right to collect as much pollen as he liked. He understood that if he was found by the bees collecting as much as he did, there would be hell, and a few unfriendly wasps or spiders to pay, but the risk was worth it in his eyes. He had a few small time helper flies, but they were no match for the hymenoptera gang or the spider clan. Their loyalty was also suspect as they would sell his soul for a bit of rotten meat, but such was life on the streets. As long as he appeared to keep below his meagre quota everything would be alright, he had convinced himself of that, but it didn’t stop the nightmares. The nightmares where he was being trussed up by Sid the spider or torn to pieces by Hank the wasp or any one of their enforcers stayed with him. Sometimes it was so bad that he would wake up in a cold sweat, buzzing uncontrollably. That was the price of being a fly farmer in a garden run by bigger and badder bugs.