me so hornets

oh, my parents like to keep the bushes in order so they periodically traipse about the yard with a hedge trimmer and some felco shears and that is how come magazines sometimes come take pictures of our yard and also politicians film campaign commercials there. i think it is great until i am supposed to take part in the trimming, then i find it unnecessary.

but so, there are casualties in every war, and this is a war story at the heart of it, you see because mom was out pruning the hedges and these crazy little fuckers decided that the pruning shears were too close to their nest. they are called white faced hornets and they don't buzz around so much as fly directly at the point on your body that is most sensitive and sting it over and over. so mom got stung, she threw down her implements and ran inside for the baking soda.

dad was swift in avenging his wife's attack, like a few hours later when i was trying to read some malcolm gladwell by the pool. he came out of the garage with some raid (which is a patented chemical product that kills stinging insects and makes dogs really curious. seriously.) and, never one to tempt fate, a broomstick. get ready to run, he told me as he steadied the broomstick like some don quixote, but with realer, if less intimidating enemies. right-oh, i responded. and "psssssssssssh..." the raid shot out as dad parried at the nest. and "psshhhhhh..." the raid immediately stopped coming out. dad looked at the can, looked up, threw the can down and started running. i leapt up from my lawn chair, threw malcolm to the grass and dove for the pool, fully clothed. i dove right past dad, as he yelled "owwww...shit!" running full tilt. i hid under the water for a few seconds to make sure the hornets passed me by and took the opportunity to scoop up my sunglasses from the bottom of the pool.

dad was inside with the baking soda. it feels like i got hit with a pan he said, looking at his wounded forearm.

i'm going to really let them have it. i'm going to wait until it is dark and they're all in their nest and i'm going to sneak up and let them have it, dad informed me.

hornets 2 - humans 0. 

at dusk, from the kitchen i saw dad in the mudroom putting raincoats on and snowpants on. muck boots. canvas hats. ski gloves. not only was he putting them on, he was trying all the options out to see what materials might be best at thwarting a stinger. finally he approached me like some wacked-out fisherman, covered head-to-toe in the most water-repellent, insulated garb he could muster and asked me to pull his mosquito net over his head. i obliged, making sure the elastic around the neckline had no slack that would allow those crazy insects any point of entry into dad's soft parts. he was ready to fight anything. 

remember that dude in jurassic park who was trying to steal the fucking embryos or dna or whatever and he's all driving in the rain storm and his car slides off the road and he's trying to winch it back up and this dinosaur starts hissing at him and spits in his eyes and then they all eat him (his name was dennis nedry)? wouldn't have happened to dad. he was impervious. 

in fact, the final battle was tame, dad employed the scorched earth policy. he razed that nest. the little fuckers never stood a chance. serves them right for living in our cuboid bushes.