(I found this in my notebooks of random writings/thoughts and I don’t remember at all what project this was for but it made me laugh.)
I have no idea how this thing got in, but it was huge. It was about the size of my thumb, a Godzilla among insects alike. This wasp trapped me in my bedroom for a good fifteen minutes. I would have left to hunt down some bug spray, but the bug spray was conveniently placed in the garage. The laundry that was on the other side of Godzilla Wasp’s dangerous sting-prone destructive path. Right now it was on the window sill, probably looking at the wonderful of the outdoors from the other side of the glass. While it was distracted, if wasps ever do get distracted, I made way for the stairs. I pushed my hand against the door and the door frame to excel me with faster-than-usual speed. For a moment if anyone was looking, I may have resembled a Scooby-Doo episode, the part when Shaggy begins to run frantically in one spot with his legs spinning in full circles. The damn socks were making me slip, I wasn’t going anywhere. By now the wasp must have seen me. It probably knows I’m going to do something to kill it. It knows. I can’t go back in my room, it’ll will just wait for me. Eventually I gain traction and move to the stairs goof-like, I was in too much hysteria to know if I was flailing my arms or not.
I looked through the cupboards of the laundry and found nothing but old cloths, detergents, carpet cleaner, lubricants… no pesticides of any sort. No bug spray. Shit. So down the stairs I creep. I’m geared with a can of silicon lubricant and eagle eyes. I spray the window without a second thought… but it’s not there. The top of the door frames, the parts we can’t see. Inside cupboards. Everything potentially exposed was lubricated.
I never found it. I suspect it’s going to kill me in my sleep.