Wednesday, October 13, 2010
The Wasps of October
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