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An old love was allergic to bee and wasp stings. Or so he said. Funny, his mama didn't recall that. Anyhow, he would give this high pitched yelp if he saw one of the little fuckers, and run and lock himself in a bathroom or closet, stuffing the cracks in the doors. Then he'd plead with me to hurry up and get rid of the critter.
I suppose I should be more afraid of them. My older brother and I were toddlers playing in our backyard when we stumbled into a yellowjacket nest. They say I was stung more than a dozen places, and he was twice that. Neither of us are particularly fearful, but we both remember the fuss made over us with the sharp tang of ammonia and the feel of the ice packs.
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