A stranger rescued me on a train the other day. I was staring out the window when I saw a wasp heading straight for me. It paused for a second on someone’s shoulder while deciding who was the most scared, and then set its sights on me.
I hate wasps. I hate their evil black and yellow bodies and they make me act like a complete loon. I have to watch them intently so I know where they are at all times to make sure they haven’t hidden themselves down my top or in my pockets. And wasp stings are nasty! One once hid in my hair and stung my hand and my head in turn until I managed to get it out. Ouch!
Anyway, if a wasp comes near me, I have to run away. So I was busy eyeballing this wasp, when… I saw another one. I panicked. How could I keep an eye on them both? I looked around for a weapon to protect myself with, and wasp number one, seeing his chance, flew straight at my face. I hurled myself on the floor and shrieked.
Of course, it was only me who had seen the wasp, so I tried to laugh it off, and said loudly: ‘Wasp. There was a wasp.’
I was ashamed, but not so embarrassed to not immediately start looking for the wasps again. When suddenly the man in the seat opposite leapt to his feet and swiped the air with his newspaper killing one stone dead. My hero!
So that’s my worst wasp story, and if you want to join my ‘all wasps are evil’ club, tell me your story too.