Being a wusp

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Whistling while weeding is a new, but welcomed, by-product of cold beer and a hot sun. Most times, weeding produces sounds such as #@#$%%^!, #@#$%%^! and of course #@#$%%^! But not today. A few hours into pulling and piling the stubborn stuff, the mood is still good. It's time to clean up the weeded mess. The tire on the wheelbarrow is flat. Two five-gallon, salt beef buckets are fetched from behind the house. Smells Like Teen Spirit is hummed while returning to the weed heaps. After stuffing one pail, the other is grabbed...but then quickly let go. There's a gigantic wasp's nest one that would fetch $800,000 in today's St. John's real estate market in the bucket. Ahhhhhh! That traipse across the lawn could have been painful, and the song could have changed to Hurt. Being a wusp a wuss afraid of wasps we have a situation. Backing up a few steps, potential weapons of nest destruction are considered the hose, barbecue lighter, and Justin Bieber's Baby Baby... The final decision: to go all World Cup and kick the bucket with the strength and power of Geraldo...sorry...that should have been Ronaldo. The wind-up is followed by the kick and then THUNK. The bucket flies through the air, the nest drops out and falls to the grass GOOOOAAAAAAALLLLLLLL! And, thankfully, nothing is flying out of it. There's a sense of victory, that a war has been won, as the rest of the weeds are cleaned up. The other side isn't ready to surrender just yet though. The next morning there's another nest directly over my basement door. #@#$%%^! Got a story about a battle with wasps or other pests? Post it in the comments sections below.

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  • Angela
    July 27, 2010 - 13:55

    Was that a story ?