This post is written for Friday Fictioneers. My little story follows the picture prompt below.



Wasps used to build their nest under the eves in late spring and early summer where I lived in Michigan.

Dad used to say all you have to do is hold your breath and they won’t sting you. Ha! My dad was a jokester.

My job was to go to the garage and get a broom and come out and knock them to the ground and then run like hell and hope they would not sting me.

My dad never did get stung by a wasp. I, on the other hand, have been stung numerous times.

I miss my dad.