Wednesday, October 13, 2010

The Wasps of October

So it goes.  Some days when I think I have no urge to write, I find myself in front of the computer pouring out nonsense so fast, I can't keep up.  I start typing and ten minutes later, I've got 500 words down on whatever thoughts that managed to escape.

And then there are days like today.  All day long as I worked on the roof, all I could think of was writing a story about my interactions with the wasps of October.  I was sure it would be a grand  tale of  tiny wasps protecting their nest of future generations from the evil human even as their lifespans were winding down.  They would battle valiantly but in the end it would be their last stand.   Evil would prevail.  Good would go down hard.

I would include some comic relief as I described my sorry self in retreat after being tagged a few times.  The battle would erupt spontaneously when the cool morning temps warmed cold blooded bodies up to fighting temperature.  Running down the roof wailing and flailing my arms in a panic, the horde circle me searching for vulernable tissue to jam some venom into.  As I step on the ladder one fearless soldier would heroically sacrifice her life with a well placed shot to the small of my back and I would tumble down, down to the ground.

After my fall of disgrace I would hatch half baked schemes to pay the little bastards back and become a gimpy wounded terrorist, invading their homeland and taking out their hive.  I would use chemical weapons, blunt instruments, and if that failed, I would poke sticks in their eyes.  But still the courageous wasps would send warriors on suicide missions, fighting to the bitter end even as toxic foam encrusted their hive making their  nervous systems lock up hard.  I would dance a little victory jig and cackle as the gallant wasps herked and jerked struggling to take flight again to fight with their last gasp.

Yeah, it was gonna be great. 

But something happened.  I overestimated my physical endurance.  I did not stagger off the roof until the moon came up around 7:15 PM.  I had tuckered out not only my body, but apparently my brain as well.  Which left me number and dumber than usual.

So what do I end up with?  A vague taste of what might have been.  A weak glimmer of what could have been.  Decidedly less than the best I had hoped to offer.


The excellent image was poached from The Micropolitan Museum


Drackar said...

Wasps...those poor, hopeless blighters.

Beach Bum said...

I saw the title about "Wasps" and my first thought was about stuck up and snobish white people.

I had to replace a couple of missing shingles after a wind storm a few years back. Pain in the ass and I only finished half the job, I ended up hiring a crew that did the other half in 20 minutes. Extra hands and thr right tools made all the difference.

As far as the buggy wasps are concerned, Home Depot sells chemical weapons in bulk.

David Barber said...

At the moment, Mike, we've got them in the house every day. There are still a lot about but we've got used to them now. Even my 4 & 6 year olds just ignore them.

Not sure why there are so many still about though cos it's got really cold here too.

Keep well, my friend and good luck with the roof.

Kulkuri said...

The Kid still laughs when she thinks about my "What The Fuck Dance" after I walked by a hornets nest hidden in the tall grass and weeds in the field. There was a nest almost basketball size about knee-high on a bush. They attacked me in several places, (legs, arms, and face). A few days later I torched the nest on a frosty morning even tho I could only see with one eye as the other one was practically swollen shut.

Randal Graves said...

Hey man, as long as you got the word out about those giant, radioactive wasps that will soon be darkening the land, consider your deed done.

Demeur said...

Reminds me of my time earlier this year with a battle of the fruit flies and then there was the ant invasion. Only thankful they weren't biting or stinging. And now we have spiders.

Chef Cthulhu said...

About 8 years ago when I was living in Maine myself that my (then 3 y/o) sun ran over a yellow jacket nest on his Big Wheel. I remember sprinting across the yard, scooping him up like a fumbled football and knocking the little fuckers out of his hair while I ran back to the house and they stung the crap out of my hand.

I agree with Beach Bum. Chemical fucking weapons.