I’m sitting in the toilet at rehab, as one does. Over in the corner I see a struggling bug thingy. Yep, it’s Willie, Willie the Wasp!
Man he is in his death throes.
I started telling him about his brethren out of doors. He should stayed out there, and then may have lived longer. Too bad now he opened himself up to very hot light bulbs, no that big bowl of water isn’t Lake Tahoe for buggy type things, it’s really suicide to go in. I’ve seen it all too many times. Then they get to ride on the watery roller coaster to hell. Not a moral judgement, but a septic tank must be ‘hell’.
Or he may be chased by a Mad CNA with her flyswatter. (The wasps are a real problem here, the official ‘Fix’ was to give the overworked CNAs flyswatters🤔)
I told Willie that two days ago one of his cousin wasps stung (is that a word, @Yllaria )me on top of my head. It gave me a headache. Just sayin’
I told Willie the last time I saw his cousin he was belly up on a stepping stone
his widdle wings crossed over his chest and a tiny Lily stem there. Dead as a door knob.
Sorry for your loss Willie.
Willie, bearer of bad news and all, you’re fixin’ to see him soon. I think.
Oh, Willie, we’ve known each other such a short time. I feel like I’ve known you longer.
Don’t get so testy. Why do you guys have such bad attitudes?
As a species y’all need to work on that.
Oops! A last burst of energy. Willie in bottom of the tub.
It’s all over.
No, I’ll not consider mouth to mouth at all …
Cause them bloody things can bite you after they’re dead.
(Yeah, I know bees and wasps don’t really bite🤭)