I’ve never seen a wasp so black
Or poking around in holes like that
The kind that I expect to see
Hang out on my verandah

I think they’re called paper wasps
In general, they’re a friendly lot
I’ve always thought if I ignore them
They won’t attack, and we’ll be friends

But then …
One day, I was relaxed, just standing at the door
And felt a stab, the pain expanding
I bounced around, screeching; crying

The plumber who was doing a job
Came running as he heard me sob
And as he tried to calm me down
His buddy yelled ‘I’ve been stung!’

He swore, I moaned, we jumped around
We tried to grab at spots that hurt
The plumber’s mate, just stood and grinned
I yelled at him “Check under my shirt!”
(I was half undressed, by this point)

In my urgent need to be rescued
I’d lost all modesty, middle of the garden; near to naked!
Those wasps are not my friends.
And I’ll never ignore them again. (172 words, 6 minutes)

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