A (MOSTLY) TRUE STORY

The utility man came to deliver fuel. But it turned out some yellowjackets had built a nest at the fill port. The man left, and I got a call from the utility company to have the nest removed before they’d come back. I’d had no idea. I went out and sure enough, the gray paper nest was perhaps four inches in diameter. I know that’s not huge, but I found it menacing. To me, it looked like the Death Star coming up over the horizon. One-Eyed Willie with the Avada Kedavra. Goonies never say the name of you-know-who. But I digress, and apologize for the mixed, cross-generational references.

This is not a pinata.

Anyway, about the wasps. I went and got a spray can of bug poison. Shoots twenty feet. I calmly went out and carpet bombed them from afar. Thought nothing more of it. Not my first time destroying an entire bug community. Went back inside and back to work.

Hours later, I went out to check on it. Looked empty. Approached. A single hornet buzzed about, lost and forlorn. Some despot had gassed his whole family, his house, and his entire village, too. I think it was crying little wasp tears.

I completed my task. Not afraid of one sad little wasp, I took a stick and knocked the nest off.

That little jerk face came directly at my head, spiraling in like a kamikaze. I moved as if someone was throwing a punch. My block? Ineffective. My dodge? Didn’t fool anyone, least of all that thimble sized rage monster. It bounced off my forehead, wings buzzing and stinger poised for another pass.

Did I mention I’m allergic? Not deathly, but enough to swell up like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. Dunno what would happen if it stung me in the head. Might not be able to taste bacon ever again. Tragedy.

Hagrid, stung by a yellowjacket, but not afraid of no ghost.

My fight was over. I ran. Fast. In a zig-zag pattern. That thing sounded like a TIE fighter, turbolasers blasting. I reached the front door into the house. Turned the doorknob and slammed it with my shoulder at the same time.

I’d locked myself out.

Something buzzed by my ear. Could have been a bullet. Maybe an RPG. Or an F35. I was off like a shot, sprinting my fat butt across the front yard, arms waving, shouting like a toddler with something they’re not supposed to have. I swear, I could have set an Olympic speed record. Usain Bolt would want my autograph.

Actual picture of me running across my front yard.

But then I realized I heard nothing. Besides, I’d run at least twenty yards. I needed to catch my breath. I waited, hands on knees. No noise. No sting. No death venom pulsing in my veins.

I snuck back into the house the back way. Thought about calling 911. Or maybe SWAT. Does the National Guard make house calls? After a long time, I worked up the courage to take a peek, my moose hunting rifle in hand. Locked and loaded.

Nothing. That hate nugget may have won the battle, but I’d won the war.

Seriously. I don’t know what the utility man was afraid of.