Walking in the newly cooled air, along a pathway cleaned by the afternoon rain, two little boys and their mother pass by a dying bush of flowers. All that remain, are the bald heads of what were once the center of bright, cheery flowers.
The oldest boy steers clear of them as if they were a mange ridden animal and quickly warns his mother in a heroic effort to save her from harm.
"Um.... Mommy", he says, "I think those flowers have bee germs."
His Mother's laughter can be heard from the other side of the fields.
"Yes, son," she manages to compose herself long enough to speak. "I do believe ALL flowers have "bee germs"."