The Attack of Waspzilla!
So, there I was, lying in my bed reading the first volume of the Final Chronicles of Thomas Covenant (as you do). From somewhere about a foot above me came a droning sound. Not a buzzing sound. Not a whine. A drone. A fairly weighty sounding drone – the kind of sound a twin prop chinook helicopter would make while flying to the shop to buy a new recording of Ride of the Valkyries.
I glanced around and was confronted with the biggest effing wasp I’ve ever seen in my life.
Let’s draw back for a moment, shall we. It’s quarter to twelve at night and it’s the middle of November. A time and date where no wasp has any right being. And this thing was BIG – the creature has obviously been living on a diet of Big Macs and small children all summer.
So, I did what any red blooded male with a long ancestry of hunter-gathering would do. I shrieked like a pansy-foo-foo and legged it out of the room, with Cujo the wasp in hot pursuit.
Debbie came charging upstairs thinking I’d injured myself in some way to find me dancing around, gesticulating wildly, and telling tells of fearsome foot-long monsters.
Once I’d calmed down enough to arm myself with an old Oor Wullie annual and ALL THE INSECTICIDE IN THE UNIVERSE, I stood well back and convinced Debbie to go into the room to get my clothes (I was feeling very vulnerable, after all). In she popped and threw the clothes out and, three seconds later, came hurtling out herself wailing like a howler monkey.
After we’d stood for a few moments, sharing a mutual shudder, we decided that a divide and conquer approach would be best. Debbie took the side of the room nearest the window and I tackled the other. Three seconds later, she was wailing and dashing about again. Prodded about, but couldn’t find it.
Debbie was just beginning to get ready for bed when up popped Cujo, baring it’s little waspy teeth and flexing its arse in anticipation. I gave a quick glance at my clutched Oor Wullie book and decided that, as the bastard was likely to grab it off me and hit me back with it, simply chucking it at the intruder while cackling maniacally would be the best approach. This I did, to little avail. It was, however, followed up by a lengthy blast of aerosol bug splatting stuff. I swear the thing hit the ground with an audible thump.
Haha! The might of mankind ONE: The best efforts of mother nature at her most perverse and evil NIL. So, I’m now completely creeped out as my deep seated belief that There Are Only Wasps In Summer has been shattered.
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