I regret to inform you that I murdered a dozen or so of your precious flying wasps today. See, there is so much space out here, that I figure when one of them buzzes close to me he or she is intent on harming me. In fairness to me, I will point out that I have severely decreased the use of aerosol sprays with handy 20 ft streams of wasp killing tonic. No, today I did it the old fashioned way, with a chopped broom handle swung like Mighty Casey himself, only I cleared the fences more than I struck out. This pleased me way more than what I did three years ago, after wasps stung me and my little boy, which, as you well know, consisted of me dousing the entire barn in diesel fuel.
I’m Green baby! Green, I tell you!
I have to say, that after connecting solidly and hearing their little waspy bones crack, I wait for them to plummet onto the ground, and, if i can beat the dog to the carcass, I perform a little ritualistic dance and beat my chest before grinding their little orange bodies into the dust.
I decided long ago that these creations of yours were one of your few mistakes, but I feel compelled anyway to keep you informed when I remove a few of these demonic insects from my part of your world.
Thank you for this weather today.
