There’s one animal that i’ve always loathed. Not because of it’s apparent lack of necessity, nor because its annoyance at picnics, but because that tiny little sting can cause death.
How I have managed it i do not know, but I can be glad to say that I have never been stung. Not by a wasp, or a bee, in fact I’ve only once been nibbled upon by a furry bumble. However, other’s are not so lucky and with my father being highly allergic, it’s taken me a long time to see a wasp and not uncontrollably want to crush the beggar to death. I did manage to stop, after all, I live over 100 miles away from my folks and actually, wasps do quite a lot of good as natural pest controllers.
However, a frantic phone call last night to inform me that my Dad had been rushed to hospital in anaphylactic shock because he’d been stung, has once again brought blood rushing to my revenge filled head. Thankfully he’s ok after the quick response of paramedic’s and bizarrely he was conducting the All Souls service when it happened. One minute he was leading the prayers, the next he was collapsed on the floor surrounded by a worried and hushed congregation. Awakening with a flurry of swearing, covered in the poppies that he sent flying as he’d crashed to the floor, it’s all by the grace of god that he didn’t join the people passed that the prayers were in remembrance of.
But my threshold has been reached, and once again I want revenge. Die Wasps Die. Come near me at your peril.