February [Stories] 05

Now for a more traumatic story. Well, as traumatic as it can get for a 7 year old.

Do you remember the first time you were ever strung by a bee? I do, and it was the ultimate “F you.” I was outside with my sister, maybe my dad. There were a lot of acorns in the driveway.

For one reason or another, I was tossing them at my sister, maybe she was throwing them back, I honestly don’t recall. I was having fun. Or at least I was. I grabbed another large acorn off the pavement, and was going to prepare to throw it like the others. As I lifted it into sight, I noticed something was on the acorn. Whether it was there the whole time or just happened to land I couldn’t say. A yellow-jacket. The wasp from hell was now on the very acorn I trusted.

Now I’d say I was a pretty bright child. I was fairly calculated in my actions, I thought about the big picture, generally weighed my options. The moment I saw that sucker on my acorn, all that went out the window. The only thought I had, was scream. I yelled, tried to drop the acorn, but I was frozen in fear of the small striped bastard.

It’s at this moment, the yellow-jacket has realized I’m easy prey. I kid you not. He could have flown away, he could have flown at me, something. Instead he stood on that acorn, turned to face me properly, raised his butt, and stung me right in the finger. I watched it happen like it was slow motion. If he could have winked I know he would have.

The pain hit immediately, I chucked the acorn and ran. I was then rushed inside and my mom started to apply what I’m assuming was baking soda. You know, one of those home remedies that may or may not do anything, but you’ll take anything when the pain is that intense. I was ready for amputation. I stared at my knuckle that had just been the wasp’s plaything. The pain wasn’t as bad after I settled down, but it was far from over.

I don’t remember the recovery period but I’m sure it wasn’t that great. I still hate being stung by things. I was however fortunate enough to not encounter another sting for a long time. But perhaps that’s a story for another time! Do you remember your first sting?

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