For months now I’ve been telling you about the attempts by my better-half to convince me to buy a few goats, a dog, chickens, and even a few boxes for raising bees.  As you also know I not really crazy about any of those ideas and have been more than clear about it.

In the last few months I thought we’d finally settled those desires with a big fat NO WAY. This story continues forty-eight hours ago when the better-half left for work after telling me she’d be working a little later than usual.  I had a handful of stupid little chores that needed done and was sure this extra time would allow me to complete them.

Let me give you some background information to make this story a little easier to understand.  A few years ago we had our house resided.  New house wrap was installed and once and for all we thought our home would be sealed from intrusion by Mother Nature’s millions of little friends.  From that point on the assault by bees, wasps, yellow jackets, and lady bugs continued but with little success on their part. Since wasps and yellow jackets love to build their nests on wood surfaces under the eaves of houses I thought we were finally safe because the siding was vinyl and they couldn’t attach their nests to it.

My better-half told me in passing that a wasp nest was being built under the deck above one of her flower gardens.  Could I take care of it please? I really didn’t listen to her at the time and just went about completing my other chores.

The second fact you need to understand is that we have a room that opens to the back yard at the rear of the house. This is used for storage of garden supplies, shovels, weed-whackers and other yard implements.  It’s always locked when not in use and I hadn’t been in there for a week or so.  I was intending to get the weed-whacker and start my yard work but as I stood near the door I heard an odd buzzing sound. As I unlocked the door the buzzing got much louder and when I stuck my head into the room I saw hanging just above my head a wasp’s  nest the size of an NFL football.

As you should remember I broke my leg last fall and damn near destroyed my right knee. I’ve healed up rather well but not completely. I have a slight limp and can’t run too fast anymore, or so I thought.

A cloud of about a thousand bees decided I was trespassing in their territory and to my surprise I discovered that I really was completely healed. I took off like an Olympic sprinter running across the yard with thousand of those little bastards hot on my trail. I managed to outrun them and then slowly returned to the house by a circuitous route to plan my revenge.

A long sleeved shirt, long pants, a baseball hat, and leather gloves completed my ensemble.  Along the way I picked up a shovel and a huge can of deadly bug spray.  I approached the nest and was able to see a second nest right next to it. Shit!   I entered spraying my heart out, dodging hoards of bees which were bouncing off my head.  I was able to knock both nests down and spray them heavily and then I got the hell out of there. I waited a few minutes, returned and finished off another thousand bees.  That spray was a real killer and it did the job and then some. How I was able to escape being stung I’ll never know.  Later in the day I cleaned up the debris and considered the matter closed, or so I thought.

My day continued and the other chores were finally finished. I was walking across the yard and I saw what looked like a lot of bees flying around under the front deck near the flower garden. It dawned on me then that this was probably the one my better-half had warned me about. What did I find but another huge nest of wasps.  What the hell right. I was on a roll and decided to wipe this nest out once and for all, or so I thought.

Since the deck is eight feet high I retrieved a step ladder, my bee killing outfit, the long stick, and the bug spray.  Easy peasy, right?  The only problem was climbing the ladder quickly before they could attack and to not fall off the ladder in the process. I had a stick in one hand, bug spray in the other, and began climbing the ladder with no hands.  The bees immediately saw the error of my ways and attacked.  They knocked me off the ladder which then fell on top of me. I scrambled to my feet and took off running again. I made it about three feet before one of those buggers stung me on top of my head.  They may be small but OMG the pain from that sting was unbelievable. I fled again and took a little time to rethink my strategy while putting an ice pack on my head.

I returned pissed off with nothing but revenge on my mind. I knocked the nest down and killed everything in it. There were hundred still swarming but they had been sprayed and were slowly dying.  I turned and walked away very proud of myself when one last little SOB came out of nowhere and stung me on the head in the same exact spot as the first one. That shot dropped me to my knees and required a steam of curse words to make me feel better.

My question is this. Did my better-half know about the nests in that back room? She says she didn’t but I don’t believe her entirely. She seemed a little too smug and insincere when I was looking for some sympathy for my wounds.  She finally got her wish that we have bees but unfortunately these little killers don’t make any honey.  Maybe now she’ll attempt to bring some killer goats home to surprise me or maybe some chickens trained to attack. She’s a lot sneaker than she looks.

One last  time darling, no bees, no goats, no chickens but maybe sometime in the future we can get a dog.

That’s my compromise.