Battle of Colorado: April 29, 2007

Last night my mother grilled hamburgers and hotdogs for dinner. While cleaning the grill (like a saint though sighing), the door was left open and in flew the enemy.

You may recognize his uniform: a gold with black accents. Or his trumpet call: a gentle hum. Memories of some readers may even recall the powerful affect of his weapons: a biological agent dispensed through a stinger. Indeed, a wasp had invaded our territory and must be fought. One sister left the room. Most of the rest of us either crouched or wheeled round, following its sporadic flight, fearful he would choose to target us.

Then came the counter attack. Mom got the fly-swatter - and a footstool. In this way she hoped to reach him against our vaulted ceiling. She flicked at him above our heads, and he dive-bombed angrily over us, pulling up just in time and avoiding certain death.

Reinforcements arrived. My Marine-to-be brother had run for his airsoft gun (the modern equivalent of a BB gun). He took aim. But no, a moving target of that size was too hard to hit. If only the enemy would land...

The more reasonable, and for the moment less concerned inhabitants of our living room suggested we direct the enemy to retreat back out the door whence he entered. We opened it wide and Mom resumed shooing. To no avail. He sped towards the door but didn't notice it, being a few feet left of the opening, so he buzzed fearfully back to the heights of the ceiling... where he landed.

Bang! One shot, then two. Wings and legs flew apart, and we were certain the enemy was defeated. But could he, in death, still accomplish his sinister goal? What had become of the painful stinger? Search as we may, we only recovered a head (the mouth of which continued to move for a disturbingly long time, though it might have been the wind), four legs, and two wings. Then we vaccuumed the area, so it seems very unlikely that there are any parts remaining.

My brother ventured then into enemy territory to destroy their base. He could be heard while leaving: "Next time I find a nest, I'm going to get one person to spray them with wasp-killer and I'll hit them with my airsoft gun." Just yesterday morning my dad had been commenting on the delusion some boys suffer of invincibility.

To God be all glory.