WASP!

There was a wasp inside my apartment when I got home today. It was rather large and menacing in the way that wasps tend to be and the funny thing is, I have NO clue how it got in. I only noticed it because it was making a ‘tick’ sound when it was flying around.

My first hypothesis, that someone, maybe Vikings, had planted a very small bomb proved incorrect. It was only when I saw it circling my TV that I realized what it actually was.

As I mentioned, this thing was huge. It was a good inch long, not counting the knife and it looked kind of like a little yellow and black Apache helicopter. I, of course, captured it and subjected it to interrogation.

I mainly wanted to know how it got in. There are no wasp-sized holes in my apartment that I didn’t make myself, so that suggests it came in through either a window or a door.  So I focused my questioning in that area, hoping that it wouldn’t tell me that wasps had figured out how to work door handles.

Now, I’m not afraid of wasps in a screaming and pointing way. It’s more of a respect. Respect in that they will not just bite you, but they will go get all of their friends and relatives to come back and help them do it. I was bitten by a wasp once and that was a fairly serious ‘owie,’ as the professionals say, so I have no desire to be bitten by lots of them. Repeatedly. All over my body.

NOTE: I know for a fact that all branches of the Special Forces refer to injuries as ‘owies.’ Seriously. An actual Green Beret told me that. Granted, it might have been a hallucination, considering that he was also a chicken. A six foot chicken. Wearing a beret. . . . . you know, in hindsight, let’s just forget that I mentioned anything about that.

Anyway, the wasp proved a tough customer and refused to talk. I even threatened to turn it over to some bees I knew, but that didn’t seem to phase it. In the end, I decided to let it go.

“Fly away!” I said, in a commanding voice as I let it out of the glass. “Fly and tell your wasp friends that doom will come to their nest should they dare to cross my threshold again!” And then I did my best evil laugh.

I then watched it fly away, past my neighbor, who was staring at me and clutching a small yippy-type dog.

“Wasps are like Klingons,” I explained. “You have to threaten them or they won’t respect you.”

I’m sure she agreed, as she ran inside and slammed the door shut, presumably to tell all her friends about the cool guy she just talked to.

Yeah, I presume a lot.

Cheers,

-Jason