Dewey: Is that a bee?
Hal: That is how you know it's fresh. You won't find any bees in your store-bought honey, I'll tell you that much.
Dewey: Where did this come from?
Hal: Spoils of war, Dewey. You know that beehive in the toolshed I've been battling for months? Victory is mine.
Dewey: You did it yourself? How'd you know how to do that?
Hal: It's instinctual. See, human beings were born with everything they need to destroy bees. Except the poison, you have to buy that.
Dewey: I feel kind of sorry for the bees, though.
Hal: It's survival of the fittest, Dewey. If they had won, they'd be spreading us on toast right now.