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The Bald-Faced Hornet's Nest
Last year at summer's end, I was vacationing in the innocent foothills of Tennessee. The tranquil scene before me was so pristine, so unvarnished, so - so perfect! That was until the neighboring campers arrived with a demon child who had a passion for hornet's nests… Vacations come and vacations go and they're so few and far between. I've come to the conclusion over my almost half-century of life that most of us live for weekends and vacations - and for those alone. Why did I omit holidays? Holidays are spent with 'loved ones and friends' who most of the time manage (through their 'good' deeds) to bring more fresh hell into our lives than perfect strangers. Back to my story….
The morning before 'his' arrival I took a walk-about through the neck of the heavily wooded forest, observing wildlife, studying the birds, enjoying the sun filtering through the tall trees on withering rays as the clouds blocked its power every now and then. As I had approached the camp on my way back, I noticed a lively hive - a bald faced hornet's nest. Immediately, I side-stepped this gray cocoon that contained a ruthless mob of fast flying, aggressive, sure-fire stingers. The cocoon was quite large at that - as big as the beach ball that Aunt Mamie had brought with her to Crocodile Cove last summer at the reunion. It was one of those holiday events. By the time I arrived at camp, the little monster and his family had wheeled out their tenting gear and were hard at work, possibly trying to beat the threatening rain showers. As I peacefully prepared my coffee, they screamed at the man child whose tiny hand contained a stick, which he kept poking into his mother's rear whenever she leaned forward to adjust the tenting. She threatened to kill him twice; his father three times. Finally, they ushered him away, instructing him to wander into the forest to play. I could almost see 'bear' written on their foreheads. The boy ambled directly over to my space. Drat! The peace had ended - nevermore. "Hey, Mister, what ya drinking? Whiskey?" he plied, squinting against the sky as the sun suddenly flooded through the clouds. "Just coffee, son," I told him, wondering if the light were a sign from Heaven for it was beaming heavily on the boy now. That thought was immediately doused and a scowl captured my face as the boy bit out, "You're ugly!" When I said nothing (I'm not accustomed to shocking circumstances and lead a very predictable life), the boy continued in a mocking tone, "You stink too!" "Go on, boy," I told him, just wanting him to vanish. The idea of bears suddenly struck me again. "No! I don't have to!" Now what? I darn well wasn't going to say 'please'. I concentrated in the direction of his parents but they had vanished. Lovely. "What's wrong? Are you ugly AND deaf?" the boy chided, an absolute monster - no doubt! "Son, move along now. You're disturbing my coffee break," I told him. In a daze I watched his giant stick descend and suddenly strike my coffee pot, dislodging it from the fire and slinging the scorching contents onto me. By the time I recovered, the boy had entered the gates of the forest and was yelling obscenities at me over his shoulder. Tossing down my coffee cup (and it was tin, but at that moment, I wouldn't have cared if it were fine china), I directed my steps toward the forest, following the boy. My hands and face were blistered from the hot coffee. Once I reached the boy, I'd planned on taking him back to his parents for satisfaction. As I walked the path, the grandfather oaks seemed to shroud ominously over me, detecting my foul mood. Tracking the boy was easy as he was leaving a trail of destruction via use of his mighty stick. Finally, I saw him. He was standing, legs astride, stick raised - aimed directly at the gray cocoon - at the bald-faced hornet's nest. My warning came an instant too late as his stick slammed the walls of the protective hive. In an instant, the boy's screams hit the air with a million hornets dancing the Dance of Death about him. Reality kicked in as I raced to the scene, snatching the boy and racing away, through the forest, finally out into the open. I remember the ambulances, the grateful words from the boy's parents, and the note I received from the boy not long afterwards when I had arrived back home. It was a lovely card. Until I opened it. He had penned, "You're still ugly." Click Here to Return to American Outback |
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