Save the wasps.
Sitting in Jimmy the Bollix’s kitchen the other night with Jimmy and Stinking Pete. Pete was washing out a mug so he could have tea.
Something went ‘Bzzzzzzzzzzzz’ past my ear. It was yellow and black and stripey. A wasp! I’m completely allergic to the pain of wasp stings. It landed on the window.
I picked up a magazine from the table (a copy of Digital Radio Enthusiast Monthly) and went to splat it. The only good wasp is a dead wasp.
“NO!”, roared Pete, “Don’t kill it. I hate people killing animals that we don’t eat. Even house flies and rogue ladybirds.”
“Fuck that, Pete. If that thing stings me you know the reaction could be terrible. I’d be going around the place going ‘Ow, that smarts. That is quite painful indeed. Ouch’ … and so forth. Are you prepared for that?”
“It won’t sting you, Twenty. I promise. I’ll sort it.”
So he picked up a glass and a sheet of paper. He put the glass over the wasp who was on the window then he put the paper underneath so he could kep him trapped then let him free outside.
Unfortunately it was quite a thick piece of paper so as he was sliding it under the glass he got a couple of the wasp’s legs trapped. Quickly moving it he solved the problem. The wasp’s legs were no longer trapped. They were no longer attached the wasp either.
“Oh shite!”, he said and moved the paper again this time shearing off another two legs and an antenna.
By now the wasp is seriously fucking pissed off as you would be if you’d lost four of your legs and an antenna thingy. It was buzzing like crazy. 50% in anger, 50% in terrible, buring pain.
“Fuck. Here, Twenty. Just hold this for a second”, he said.
I held it thinking he was going to get a different bit of paper. Instead he ran off going “Urrrrgh. Urrgggh.”
“Jesus Christ, Stinking Pete. He wouldn’t even have known what had hit him if I’d smacked him out of it. Now he’s trapped in a glass wondering why the wasp God has allowed such hideous injuries to happen to him and why he’s now a complete and utter capper. I’d say he’s buzzing so much in there because he’s hitting his head off the glass over and over to try and kill himself.”
I took the wasp and released him, by throwing the glass as far as I could into Jimmy’s back garden.
“Ooooh, urrrrgggh, urrrrgggh!”, said Pete.
I suppose I really should have known better than to listen to him in the first place.
