Chemical Warfare...with Wasps

My weapon of choice

    Now that winter has finally given up its death grip, I decided that this afternoon would be best spent on the porch. With some minor pestering by my very friendly dog Alfred, my time on the porch was off to a peaceful start...until I heard a loud buzzing above my head. Quickly looking around myself I saw the culprit, and let out a sigh of distaste. Slamming the door shut behind me in anger I asked my Mom if we had any wasp spray, and I was directed toward our machine shed. Being unreasonably fearful of everything in our yard (we have snakes, and who knows when Diablo will come back from the dead?), I ran across the lawn and walked timidly into the machine shed. Browsing over the cans of toxic chemicals I chose my weapon, a can of Raid hornet and wasp killer, and it was on.

Rubber Gloves=Sheer Awesome

    Most of my day was spent with toxic chemicals. It began with an hour long fling spent with a can of refurnishing polish on my new antique bed frame(it's new to me anyway). I had to wear plastic gloves, but the chemicals kept eating through them so I had to switch over to heavy duty super awesome rubber gloves. Slipping those big black gloves on my hands made me feel like a super hero, or maybe a super villain, these gloves have a lot of potential. They are really difficult to function with, but their coolness makes up for it. After my lovely tryst I thought I was finished, but then I felt the need to take out every wasp who dared to come near my porch. Perched in the corner rocking chair I held the can closely, ignoring the slight drip in the sprayer that caused my hand to burn ever so slightly. The can boasted it could spray up to 22 feet, meaning I didn't have to leave my chair to protect the free world. Aiming carefully I would catch wasps in mid flight, watching them fall to the ground writhing in agony. I felt some pity for them, until I remembered how horrifying it is to walk outside and be dive bombed by a wasp. Holding up the can I glared at the wasp and took my aim, but it was all for naught as I had run out of spray. Dejectedly I gave up my post and moved on to the next chemical.

The closest I'll get to graffiti 

    Our wicker porch furniture was in desperate need of painting. The cats had favored it for a scratching post, as well as a therapy couch because most of the paint was worn away in cat shaped spots. Holding the spray can in my hand I began to shake it up, feeling like a hooligan. I've never vandalized anything with spray paint, so I had to pretend the chairs were some form of public property...I can't decide if that means I have a vivid imagination or a very depressing life. At any rate I spray painted the chairs with the vigor of a rapscallion, when the chemicals let me down again. My can ran out of paint halfway through giving the couch a new life. Feeling abandoned by all the chemicals in my life I told my mom the bad news, and she pointed me back toward the light. I was to go on a journey to replenish my chemicals. With a smile on my face I went to the store and bought not only spray paint, but a can of wasp spray.

A different kind of WASP
(Women Airforce Service Pilots)

     Back at home I finished my paint job and returned to my battle station on the porch. Watching carefully I saw the wasps moving freely about, thinking that I was still out of ammo. One wasp dared to position himself above me, and then I struck. Closing one eye I lifted the can and shot the wasp out of the air. He lay on the porch writhing in pain. Not being completely heartless I decided to put him out of his misery and step on him. (Lest you think I am into animal cruelty I will kindly remind you that these are insects and they could very well harm someone. I have no problem with wasps who live away from places I need to go, but once they move in on me it's war, and also...I just really hate wasps.) Clutching my can close to my side I leaned back in the rocking chair, taking in the warm Spring air. Letting out a deep sigh of contentment I closed my eyes and smiled knowing that I had won the battle.