Pissing Off the Wasps

A squint-eyed seven year old boy stands on the side of a canyon in Southern California surveying the wilderness stretched endlessly across the horizon.  A ranch is hidden in the brush less than a mile away from the side of the hill the boy stands.  The uncultivated terrain shows signs of history long forgotten.  The remains of a mostly rotted, wooden cattle fence sits in the basin of canyon.  Rusted barbed wire edges the earth between fence posts, most of which are knocked down.  The few that remain upright are dilapidated and filled with holes from years of exposure to the elements.  The myriad of historical possibilities that occurred there is nearly mystical.  Thoughts of caballeros and ranch hands working the land and driving steer across the open terrain fill his head.  The only signs of progress and cultivation is a single neighborhood and a two lane road bisecting the enormous canyon.  It is a blank canvas for the boy to play and imagine, but he has only one objective.  A bond with his surroundings is instantly formed and he is convinced of his purpose.  He absolutely must throw rocks at the standing fence posts until he knocks one of the decrepit structures down.  The boy is blessed with a lively arm and there is an unlimited supply of ammo.  This is where the conflict begins.

Once the first rock accurately strikes the fence a colony of giant red wasps is awakened.  Fearless and undaunted, the boy continues to take aim at the post deriving immense pleasure in disturbing the stinging inhabitants.  Each strike generates a frenzy of activity and the colony becomes the boy's nemesis.  Eventually the game loses its luster, and as seven year old boys are known to do, he searches for amusement elsewhere giving no thought to his previous exploits.  The wasps swarm around their bombed-out fence post now leaning at a 45 degree angle.  The incident will never be forgotten, but its significance was not realized for years.

Two boys stand at the base of a concrete sewer tunnel adjacent to Central Oklahoma backwoods.  Armed with football helmets, tennis rackets and sunglasses, the young men size up their foes.  They are prepared to do battle with a colony of frenetic wasps swarming around their fallen hive near a sewage run-off.  The battle plan?  Simple.  Approach the swarm and start swinging.  What could go wrong?  Several wasps were injured or killed but the boys did not walk away unscathed either.  They retreated furiously after the swarm turned their full attention to the attackers.  Each boy emerges with a welt on his leg worn proudly as a battle scar.  They brag to each other that they hardly felt the sting.  On that day the boys considered themselves victorious despite the injury received.  The battle was over and forgotten for the boys, but the wasps would not forget.  The boy was marked as an enemy that day, a tag wasps throughout the country would respond to.

Several neighborhood children sit high atop a hill in Southern California playing a game of truth or dare.  The most daring and outspoken boy of the group believes a small hive found on the hill is dormant.  It lays on the ground devoid of activity providing no signs of life.  When the dare is made to sit on the nest the audacious child accepts pretentiously.  Six other children eagerly watch the boy approached the hive.  The boy was no stranger to stings and was not shy to brag about it.  What's the worst that could happen?  A furious vibration on the boys rump indicated the hive was very much active.  In seconds the boy's face and head were covered with yellow wasps stinging relentlessly.  The neighborhood children hollered with laughter as the tear-filled child ran down the hill.  The wasps had their revenge.  A surprise attack left their victim with over a dozen stings.  The tides of the conflict had turned.

A young man in Northern Florida stands by a backyard swimming pool.  He had grown since his horrific hillside attack, but he was not at peace.  He had been repeatedly stung playing basketball in his front yard and various other occasions.  The pool became a haven when escape was necessary.  The young man begins the process of pool cleaning by pulling equipment out of a storage box.  Pool toys are tossed aside until a giant orange and yellow wasp emerges from under the box taking dead aim for the young man's mouth.  As a reaction he snaps his mouth shut with the wasp inside.  The aggravated wasp stings the roof of the his mouth and makes its way to the esophagus.  Using two fingers the young man rips the wasp off his epiglottis and throws it aside.  A burning welt on the roof of the mouth stands as a reminder that the wasps were not one for treaties and that disaster was narrowly escaped.  They were the aggressors now, and their sniper proved the young man would have to be constantly at the ready.

A college student sits in the passenger seat of a dirty truck in Central Oklahoma while his friend is inside a local convenient store.  A yellow wasp enters the truck and lands on his bare knee.  The student has a reverence for winged beasts of all varieties developed from a lifetime of hard lessons.  His heart beats rapidly as he carefully attempts to open the passenger door.  Unable to move his right leg the student decides to swipe at the wasp while simultaneously bounding out of the car and into the street.  The student's friend watches confused from the window of the checkout stand as his friend flails wildly outside the truck.  Convinced the wasp had taken refuge behind the passenger seat, the student refuses to reenter the truck until the problem is eliminated.  The students friend is near hysterics as he tries to convince him there is nothing to be worried about other than looking like a madman in the middle of Campus Corner.  In an attempt to ease the student's concern the friend drops the passenger seat to discover the wasp waiting patiently to strike again.  The wasp flies directly for the accomplice's face causing a similar reaction seen from inside the store.  Both student's take to flailing together in a ridiculous public spectacle.  No peace in sight.

A 27 year old man lays in bed with his wife on a Sunday morning in Central Texas.  Years of peace had been enjoyed between the man and the wasps.  Some close calls here and there, a few jittery responses to nearby stingers, but years of welt free life followed his college years.  The man gets out of bed and dodges an ambush meant for his face.  The wasps penetrated his home.  A lifelong conflict followed him all over the country, but for the first time the battle was taking place on his turf.  They had not forgotten, they had simply evolved.  Years of peace meant solely to put the man at ease only to attack when he least expects it where he least expects it.  Safety was simply a myth.

A 31 year old man sits on the sofa blogging about his lifelong skirmishes with an insect.  Half a dozen wasps circle violently outside as they tend to their newly constructed barracks on the man's porch.  Ticking sounds like bullet casings hitting the ground occur rhythmically as the wasps bump into the glass, hungry for a confrontation.  A war rages on that the man declared finished twenty years prior.  Retreat is not a word these miscreants are familiar with.  They only understand revenge, malice, evil, unrelenting retribution.  They have no concept of maturation.  They don't understand the acts of a seven year old child do not accurately reflect the feelings of a tired combatant.  A man sits writing, forcibly entrenched in a war that has no end in sight.  The only lesson learned: Don't piss off the wasps!