Had it been any normal night I would have screamed my head off like a sissy until I became paralyzed with fear, and lack of oxygen.
But tonight was something special.
Maybe because it was the last night of summer, or maybe it was because I had managed to bed for the night on a carefully crafted bed of leaves and dirt located under some bushes at the park, but whatever the cause, I found myself engaged in wonderful adventure this night.
The incessant hum of plastic wings filled my head with a sort of psychotic pride of the herd. All around me flew majestic examples of every type of wasp imaginable, each the extreme pinnacle of his or her species. We moved instinctively as a swarm, flying towards something irresistible, something beyond all definitions of greatness… something that that I cannot accurately describe here. High overhead flew the king of the all wasps, his appearance much like that of a hideous dragon, he kept spraying saliva and poison down onto us like rain. The mighty wasp’s face had always been in my most horrible nightmares, but at that time I rode along under him, somehow gaining confidence from his twisted features, and I even though I knew at the time that the idea was futile, I couldn’t help but pray for this miasmic night to never end; this, the wondrous Night of the Wasps!
