danieljohnson

So, summer is here with heatwaves, thunderstorms and vacation. And wasps. I hate wasps. And obviously I have managed to give this legacy further on to Daniel, because every time he sees some bug flying he screams like a girl
and runs for cover. Daniel's dad, Marc, is not too crazy about wasps (yellowjackets apparently over there) either. But whenever we're attacked by one, Marc's the one who saves our lives by whacking the living daylight out of the evil winged thing.

The other day, when we were on a picnic, we got surrounded by wasps after a while. (This means that there were about four wasps flying around us.) So heroicly Marc kills at least three of them. (So one of them got to spread the word to his stingy friends and family and we will be attacked soon.)Two of them wound up on the picnic blanket. Dead, or at least that's what they want us to think, the evil suckers. Since me and Daniel are wusses, we can't touch even dead wasps. So Marc took one of them with a help of a plastic plate and threw it off the blanket. And then he suddenly threw even the plate away and jumped towards Daniel and scared both of us. Daniel jumped on to his feet and started shaking his shorts. Yes, the heroic daddy threw the dead wasp right inside Daniels shorts! Finally they got the wasp out of the shorts and Daniel rubbed his butt cheek a little bit. So I check it out and the "dead" evil wasp stung him! Tough Daniel just rubbed his butt and didn't complain at all. According to Marc the pain tolerance comes from him. Ehm, right... Marc felt really bad about this, and of course, you who know how annoying I can be, know that I will remind him of his day as a superhero for as long as I live... So what have we learned today? Never ever trust a dead wasp!