Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Wasps and Jeff. Not so much.

I don't like Wasps. Wait, to be more precise, I don't like anything that can sting me, suck my blood out, attack me, you get the idea. Anyway, Wasps are in that category. Wasps and I have a war that goes back a long way. I remember when I was a kid, I had to take out the trash, and those darned wasps built a nest right above the back door, and when I would go out the door, they would swoop down upon me. Now, if it was up to me, I would have found a way to have the garbageman come inside the house to pick up the trash from us. However, Mom and Dad were sticklers for sanitation. Go figure. So, I duck and ran out and back in, but the day the wasp and I began a bitter war that still continues today.

As I grew older, I got the lovely chore of mowing the lawn. In those muggy, hot summer days in San Bernardino, wasp would find refuge in the dew betwixt the grass. Neat, my rivals were now laying in wait to hamper my chore completion. What was I to do? Mow very fast and give the wasps a slow moving target, or defend my patch of unshorn grass. I would stand my ground, but with what? Water? No. Wasp spray? Didn't have any. Wait, a Tennis Racket. It's true, I found a Tennis Racket, and walked out to the field of battle.

I think I heard the first wasp let out an evil wasp laugh when it took off and flew toward me. I felt like a Gladiator marching out to meet my foe. I held my swordish racket, and swang (is that a word?) it side to side preparing for the wasp, that was quickly winging its way toward me. I focused, and when the wasp wandered into the strike zone, I swung, and 'zwing' the wasp was propelled to the left. Perplexed, and wasp flew back into the original flight path, and made a second attempt. When it veered close enough, Fwang, I hit it again with my trusty racket. More miffed this time, it made another fevered flight in my direction. It flew into the strike zone again, and I swung as hard as I could (I felt John McEnroe cheering me on, then complaining about something else), and my foe was stuck in a mangled wad on my Tennis Racket. I was victorious. I conquered the Wasp. I understand that a new section in Wasp training includes Tennis Racket avoidance, and a picture of my face on the Wasp Most Wanted list. I'm like a Freddie Krueger to Wasps, without 2 out of 6 good movies.

1 comment:

Matty said...

Hey, I think I saw your wanted poster at the post office.