A Job That Became an Embarrassing Challenge

It was a very hot summer’s day. All the neighbors were away, so I took off my shirt. While doing landscape maintenance for an elderly widow, I had to perform a hard-prune on an overgrown Spicebush. I rarely use loppers, as folding saws are the more proper tool.

Suddenly, I felt a very sharp pain on my chest. I looked down to see a telltale welt of a hornet sting. I knew it was war. After selecting one of the bigger branches already pruned off, I fashioned a club. I then put water in two of my five-gallon buckets. I positioned my weapons near the shrub.

The search for the nest began intensely. I was stumped. I have looked everywhere, I thought. Right where I had my cache on the ground, I parted branches to have another look. Inches from my face was the nest, and a soldier lets me know that I was an intruder by nailing me on the ear.

I emptied the buckets in the direction of the nest and swatted at it with the club. The buckets were refilled several times as a prelude to strafing runs. My momentum carried me into a neighbor’s yard which caused the dog to bark up quite a rumpus. I had severe disdain towards this sentry. He was karmic collateral damage, in my opinion.

Various emotions flooded me along with the obligatory adrenaline rush as I made the potential final run. I was looking to collect myself and assess the overall situation. I was holding the club upright as a torchbearer storming the castle at midnight along with those holding pitchforks.

The annoying dog went really crazy. Its sounds were interrupted by, “Can I help you?” I looked over and on the decking was a woman handing two bags of groceries. Somehow, I quickly blurted out, “Yes; do you have any bug spray?” She said, “What? You know this is my property?”

I went on to explain in four-part harmony , as well as amazing technicolor, that I was working for Mrs. Beckley and I had run into a hornet’s nest. She said, “Oh! I’ll see what I can do.” as she disappeared into the house. It occurred to me what a sight I must have been to her: a half-undressed, large bearded man; holding a club in her yard. Thankfully, she didn’t call 911 or The National Enquirer.