The wasps have been buzzing around the front yard for over a month, but I hadn’t been able to find their home until last weekend. There were at least half a dozen crowding into a nest under the eaves. When the insects invade, an atavistic instinct takes over. Get the shotgun, Ma, the castle is under attack.
I donned a hooded sweater, gloves, and protective eyewear and grabbed the bottle of special pesticide that can shoot a 15-foot stream. I pressed the nozzle. White foam blasted forth and covered the nest. The wasps fell to the ground, twitching. After a few minutes I knocked down the nest and hosed off the remnants.
I hitched up my pants, and went inside. Time to celebrate with a plate of sushi. © 2006 Stephen Yuen
P.S. Mom, sorry I can't be there for the party. Happy Birthday!
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