Jump to content
Gerard Butler GALS

Veni, Vidi, Vespidae


Recommended Posts

Veni, Vidi, Vespidae

I stepped out of my front door and into the stifling New Orleans summer heat. The sun was beaming down on my porch, and there was barely a cloud in sight. I could feel the moisture from the previous day’s rain radiating up from below me; the air so thick I felt like I was swimming rather than walking around to the back of my house.

Underneath my thick hooded sweatshirt I felt like I was literally melting. I could feel beads of sweat begin to trickle down my skin in a number of places. In spite of the heat, I pulled the drawstrings and synched the hood tighter around my head.

As I reached the backyard I waded through the shin-high, neglected grass. I hiked up my jeans and laced my fingers through each other, ensuring that my thick winter gloves were on tightly enough to give me maximum dexterity. I pushed my large sunglasses up higher onto my nose, as they had slipped a bit from the sweat. I took a deep breath.

Ready for battle.

Positioning myself in front of the glass patio back door, I reached into the front pocket of my sweatshirt and pulled out two huge cans of poison. The illustration of the wasp that I was intending to kill looked back at me menacingly.

I had been meaning to take care of the wasps’ nest for awhile. Somehow, and extremely inconveniently, the wasps had managed to make their homestead in between the heavy wooden door and the glass patio door at the back of my house. This ensured that anytime I had to walk out the back exit, I had to walk directly underneath the nest, and that anytime I opened the interior door they would have free access to the rest of my house. This would not do.

I could have called my landlord, who likely would have sent out exterminators to fix the problem. Still, I’d always been the type who preferred taking care of things myself whenever possible, and I didn’t like troubling my landlord for every little thing, especially when I’d just moved in a month ago.

I’d done my googling. Apparently, the brand of wasp poison that I had bought was very effective against this breed. I’d read dozens of stories of the old fashioned—but effective—“spray and run” technique that I intended to employ. I’d taken care that nearly every inch of my skin was covered with thick clothing in case the poison didn’t kill them quickly enough and they chased after me in anger. Only a few inches remained uncovered around my face. My large wrap-around sports sunglasses were the closest I could come to safety goggles to keep any blowback of the poison from getting in my face.

I wished ill for no creature. I didn’t particularly want to kill the wasps and destroy their nest, but neither did I want to have to worry about them invading my territory. I know that for the most part if you don’t bother them, they don’t bother you, but having them living in between my two sets of back doors was just too close for comfort. Besides—stinging insects had always given me the creeps.

Alright. It’s time. No more putting it off.

I shifted one of the cans underneath my arm and slowly reached out to open the patio door. I could see the nest, the pipe-like paper columns extending down about an inch from the archway of the door. Inside, I could see flashes of black as the wasps moved around within.

Slowly, I grabbed the can from underneath my arm and aimed both at the nest. After an internal count of three I depressed the nozzles and engulfed the nest in the poison spray. About three seconds passed before I could see the agitated wasps’ erratic movements, backing out of the nest, confused and disoriented.

With a girlish yelp, I turned to flee. My plan had been to run directly around to the front of the house, hoping that I could get out of their sight before they could pursue me, and seek refuge in my home through the front door. Instead though, in my panic I ended up running around the backyard in haphazard circles, just hoping that I was keeping moving enough that they wouldn’t catch me.

I felt a sting on my wrist, where my glove had separated from the edge of my sweatshirt, and let out a scream in earnest. On instinct, I dropped to the ground and started rolling around in the overgrown grass.

Stop, drop, and roll, right? No, sh*t, that’s for fire.

Still, I hoped that the rolling would be able to kill any wasps that were already on me and keep anymore from gaining purchase. My heart was pounding and I was still squealing in terror as I rolled in the thick grass.

It might have been thirty seconds or it might have been thirty minutes, but eventually, I realized that I was not being accosted by stinging insects. I calmed myself down and opened my eyes, staring up at clear blue sky from my position on my back, still breathing hard from the intensity of the moment. Slowly, I sat up.

It was then that I saw a number of anxious faces, leaning out their own back doors and watching me with a mixture of curiosity and concern. I imagined what I must’ve looked like: dressed in my heavy clothes in the middle of summer, with my hood pulled tightly around my face; dark sunglasses covering my eyes as if I were the Unabomber, rolling on the weed-filled and unkempt lawn, yelping and squealing in fear. I had to look ridiculous.

Doing my best to ignore the neighboring faces that looked like they were a breath away from calling the psych ward to commit me, I glanced down at my wrist where I’d felt the sting. Instead, I saw a short and shallow scratch. I shook my head, and the laughter finally came. I’d scratched myself on the shrub at the side of my lawn when I was frantically trying to outrun the wasps that had never come for me.

Lying back onto the grass again, I couldn’t stop laughing. And soon, I found I was rolling again.


Link to comment
Share on other sites

Posted Image That about sums up the enjoyment I had reading this. Funny stuff, Steph!! I hate to admit it but been there, done that!! I really like the versatility of your writing.

~HUGS~ Kathy

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Awww, thanks! Glad you laughed Kathy... that's what I was going for! Oddly enough, this story idea came to me because 1) I have that wasp problem currently, and 2) I imagined that would be what I would do, and that would be what would happen, and 3) I imagined myself telling the story to Gerry and how silly it would sound! Suddenly, I had a short story in mind! :D Glad you found it funny too!!


Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 3 months later...

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now

  • Create New...