Wasps

[Note to the gentle reader: Carnage follows.]


June 1997

I had a morning work appointment that necessitated the traversing of 50 miles of freeway. Expecting a drive thick with traffic I got an early start. But traffic was surprisingly light and I made really terrific time.

Arriving more than 30 minutes early I decided to sit in a nearby park and read Sports Illustrated for a while. The magazine was employed daily for my lunch time eating / reading routine so I had it on hand.

While reading I observed a wasp hovering around my foot. Just hovering there. With the heel of my black leather wingtip shoe on the ground I lifted the front of my shoe an inch and pondered silently, ‘I wonder if I might be able to step on the guy.’

Before long, it flew underneath, I stomped, got it. ‘How curious,’ I thought. Returned to reading my magazine.

Then a spectacular thing transpired. Another wasp came, same place as if to observe the carcass. It hovered by my shoe, lift, underneath, stomp, wasp down. Then again. Again. Each one being successively crushed. During that one sitting, ten minutes, I managed seven corpses all in this same manner.

When there were finally a dozen or so hovering wasps and no longer relegating themselves to ground level, I opted to walk away. It wasn’t yet time for the appointment, but I felt my own safety was beginning to hover somewhat precariously.

-klem