This is supposed to be a cake shaped like a beehive. It's meant to be delicious. Too bad it's made out of Play-Doh and poison and covered in miniature cows and if you eat it you get cancer and die. Happy birthday, asshole. Love, The bees
There used to be lots of bees everywhere but now there's only two or three left. And when those last bees die, that's it—the end of the world. Because bees make apples and grass and corn and without them the whole food chain is going to be destroyed and farmers will go bankrupt and nobody will have anything to eat and it'll be like The Grapes of Wrath except it will be called The Bees of Wrath.