Carrie Leigh (carrie_leigh) wrote,
Carrie Leigh

Behold: Carrie the Wasp Slayer!™

It's been almost a year since my last Horrific Adult Story. It's not that there haven't been a few, they just that they've been a little thin on real horror.

This one, though, this one has it all. Terror, bloodshed, an hysterical dog, an eleven year-old with a jittery flyswatter hand... Now, I'm not saying that there should be a film made of this experience, but I do reserve the rights.

So, like so many good suburban housewives, I decorate for Fall. This, of course goes against everything that I stand for (and by stand for, I mean I'm too lazy to change out decor), but I have a very good friend, Stephanie, whose house is decorated beautifully (and I mean, it's a work of art, folks) for every major holiday, and I thought to myself, "I can decorate for one, non-Christmas holiday. I like Fall. I'll do that."

It's the thinking that starts it all.

So over a period of a few years, I collected some wicker pumpkins and the like. A fall wreath. A ceramic Jack O' Lantern. And after 6 or 7 years (I believe in curating slowly; there's no need to jump into these things headfirst), I found I had quite the little collection of gourdish decor. Enough that I dutifully purchased three Rubbermaid tubs for the sole purpose of keeping my Fall crap separate from my Christmas crap. I think a little Nolan just crept into my voice there. Sorry.

It's when I took the Rubbermaid tubs out of the attic that was the trouble. I blithely carried them into the house, thinking, "My house will be beautiful (not as beautiful as Stephanie's, but I digress)! Fall is here! And singing, cartoon birds braided my hair as I opened the tub.

That's where the fairy tale ended. For sometime in the last year, a family of wasps moved into my Fall Decor Rubbermaid Tub.

I didn't realize I'd unleashed the horror of late September until I took a super cute pumpkin chiminea out onto the front porch, and screamed a little (like you do) when some bees swarmed me.

Can three bees be a swarm? What exactly constitutes a swarm? Someone look that up.

When AJ heard my scream, he stuck his head out the front door.

AJ. Mom, are you okay? What's wrong? (AJ is sweet. He cares. :))

Me. There's bees out here! (Carrie is hysterical.)

AJ. I hate to tell you this, mom, but there's bees IN HERE! (Aaron goes ahead and moves into hysterics with his mom.)

I believe in 'live and let live' WITH the animal kingdom. Coming from a family of hunters, I'm in the minority. But I draw the line when the fauna try to LIVE IN MY HOUSE AND BITE ME. When that happens, I defy you to find anyone more frightened of me than these bees. Or wasps. Or whatever they are. Sting-y, buttheadish, buzzing, blights on humanity.

I went from hysterical to master wasp hunter in the blink of an eye. Abby tried to eat them. Aaron got two cornered, and I made believers out of them. Abby decided she didn't like them and went to hide. I stalked three others (the buzzing gives you away, you stupid things) and broke my flyswatter on one of them. Aaron went to hide with Abby. ....And lather, rinse, repeat. I did this a bunch, and rolled up last month's Southern Living (ironic) to take down the rest.

Admittedly, the wasps didn't seem to be on top of their game. I don't pretend to know anything about bee/wasp husbandry, but ...maybe they were hibernating or something? They seemed drunk. Or sleepy. Or both. Still, I had to mop up the spots on the floor and the wall where they were squished. (I know. The horror.)

As I sit, here, typing this story, I have to admit, I'm still a little twitchy. There was a fly in the house, and I game a bit unglued, flailing like it was going to eat me whole. Ethan, who wasn't home when the wasp carnage was going on, seems worried about me. Like I'm a little unhinged.

Maybe I am. But honestly, killing a crap ton of wasps will do that to a girl.
Tags: aaron, abbey, animal kingdom, horrific adult story

  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.