Let's eat Grandpa!

I’m not sure how I came to be inside the brightly colored office. Perhaps I was feasting on the nectar of the camelias outside the doors, and was drawn in to the purple walls and red chairs, thinking they were flowers. I’d always been a little absent-minded. But it’s not important how I got there. All I know is I was trapped.

I perched myself high up on the wall in the hallway, plotting my escape, trying to slow the beating of my nervous wings. Escape was my only option. Queen Mother had told me about using my stinger, and I wasn’t about to sacrifice my life because I’d been distracted and wound up in this place. I thought perhaps I could make a fly for it if one of those humans went out the front door. But no one left. No one came in. In fact I didn’t see anyone for a very long time. That is, until the small one came out of the bathroom and saw me.

She was beautiful. I wanted to eat her brain.

Escape was the now farthest thing from my mind.

Of course, wasps feed on nothing more than nectar and small insects. But I was born different. At least three times the size of my schoolmates, I had always thirsted for more. More than nectar. More than gnats. One day, I found myself inside a movie theater watching a movie about zombies. As I watched the risen dead devastate the human race, I knew. I wanted to wrap my mandible around a human brain. It was only a matter of time.

The small one spoke in its strange human language, the sound of evolutionary superiority. It called to another one, who quickly came into the hallway. With wide eyes, they both stared at me. I could see the hunt in their eyes, yet I could feel the small one’s pulsating brain beckoning me. One of us would be victorious. I would sip the sweet gray nectar or I would die trying.

The second one left and brought back a large one with a beard. What foolishness. To think that it could get me with a fist full of paper towels. I laughed in their general direction. Deftly avoiding the desperate attempt to grab me, I flew directly at that second one, causing all three of them to scream and fall to the floor. It was a glorious feeling, causing all that panic.

Queen Mother would not be pleased. But chances were, I’d never see her again. I was a wasp on the lam.

I flew up into the skylight, and landed facing the small one’s chair. I stared down at them. The one with the beard looked up and knew it was no use. I was too high to reach. Evolution be damned — I could fly and they could not. I had the upper wing here. There was nothing they could do, so with a frightened look in my direction, the small one sat down at its chair and went back to its work, glancing over its shoulder every three seconds to make sure I was staying put.

But no time was too long to wait for that luscious, exquisite brain. I had all day.

An hour passed. I think the small one must have gotten a neck cramp from looking at me so often, fear all over its face. Still, I waited and watched. Soon, the other one came into the office. She carried a black canister and looked menacingly up toward me. I knew I should have paid attention in Human Language class. I would be able to read the container. But it’s hard to pay attention when the rest of the class is mocking you because of your size.

For the first time, I could feel fear spreading through my thorax and into my abdomen.

The second one, who I came to call the brave one, climbed up on a desk to be nearer to me. The small one crouched in the corner, watching my every move. The brave one lifted the canister.

I should have moved. I should have flown at its face and stung it with all my might. But I was paralyzed with fear. I was still thinking about the small one’s sweet, sweet brain.

And then it hit. A forceful stream of death, spraying around me in a thousand directions. It burned and I choked. I couldn’t breath. I felt my limbs contract and seize up, my grip on the wall loosening…falling…falling. I must have fallen forever.

When I woke, I found the carpet was rough and scratched my face. I couldn’t see and my wings were melting. Put me out of my misery, I begged, but they just scrubbed the walls, trying to erase the smell of the dead. I realized they thought I was dead already. An eternity passed. Finally, the brave one grabbed the paper towels — the same paper towels that I had scoffed at earlier — and I felt the sweet release of death. Have mercy on me, Queen Mother. All I wanted was some brains.