Sidetracked



These guys are not paying rent.

My day took a definite turn for the worse at about 6:30 p.m.
As I trudged through campus toward my apartment, worn out from spending two hours on two photo spreads (InDesign makes me crazy), it suddenly hit me.

My period.

That's right, I started my period and I was half a mile from my apartment, wearing tan cords and a deep frown.

So I walked a little faster and soon enough I was at my apartment. I headed up the stairs and when I reached the top a swarm of wasps was there to greet me. These weren't your run-of-the-mill wasps either. They were massive red wasps with a mission to ruin my life.

I immediately headed back down the stairs and stood at the bottom, squinting up at the swarm.

I called my landlord, left a message, and then called her son to come to my rescue. Three cigarettes later he showed up with two cans of bug spray.

We climbed the stairs together and I showed him where the wasps like to hang out. He pointed a can at the roof's overhang and sprayed away. Wasps in unreal quantities began pouring out of the roof and they were pissed.

A couple of wet wasp bodies brushed against my arms as they fell to the ground. I don't think I've ever screamed so loud, and I scare easily. But the landlord's son went about his business. After spraying and killing dozens of wasps, he decided it was safe for me to go into my apartment.

I wearily went inside, certain that this was not over, turned on a light, and saw a huge wasp perched on my mini blinds. I grabbed the broom and proceeded to beat the shit out of it. Then I opened the blinds to make sure there weren't more hiding back there and, sure enough, a whole tribe of them were huddled together on the window sill.

FUCK.

I called up the landlord's son and made him come back. While I waited I called Dave and left what was probably the most pathetic sounding message:

Dave, it's me. I think I have to stay with you tonight. There are a bunch of wasps in my apartment and the landlord's son is coming back to help me, but I can't stay here. With the wasps. I'm scared. Call me back.

I could feel the tears welling up while I watched two wasps buzz around the floor lamp.

But I stood my ground, broom in hand, ready to kick some wasp ass.

The landlord's son finally came back armed with two fly swatters.

"Here. You take this one," he handed me a swatter and I made a face.

"Are you allergic to these things or something?"

"Yeah, I'm very allergic," I lied.

"Well that explains it. I've never seen anyone so scared of a wasp before."

I wanted to say, "Listen fucker, I just started my goddamn period. My stomach hurts. And goddamnmotherfucking wasps are taking over my apartment."

But instead I packed a bag while he killed more wasps.

When that stretch of the war had ended, the landlord's son estimated he'd killed about 50 wasps. He suggested I call him if I found any more.

Umm, if I find any more I will burn down the apartment. Honestly, I'd rather live in my car than live in an apartment filled with wasps. This isn't fucking Fear Factor. I won't win $500,000 for playing.

So now I'm safe at Dave's house. And I don't know if I'll ever be able to return to my giant nest again.

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