inside the tube….inside my nose

sinus

I’m helping Nate get to sleep again, and he’s huffing and blowing air out his nostrils when I ask him what he’s doing.

“I’ve got a booger.”

“What?”

“Inside the tube….inside my nose.”

“What?”

“Inside the tube….inside my nose. There’s a booger in there. I’m getting it out.”

It’s hard to fall asleep with an operation like that going on next to me.

I guess that he got it out eventually because he stopped chuffing.

I didn’t ask any questions.

That’s the kind of stuff that goes on at my house….right when I’m trying to get to sleep for the first time.

You never know what’s going to be happening…inside the tube…inside the nose.

I was over at the other property mowing the tall grass when I got stung by the yellowjackets.

The SOBs were hiding…deep in the ground… at the edge of the last bit to be mowed on the first field I was working on.

I let the mower go….yelling and swatting….running and cursing….the mower rolling down the gentle grade to a stand of old pine trees…..me getting up the hill and away as fast as I could.

They stung me three times….so I’m a little swollen now….hours later.

I don’t think I’d ever seen that big a nest of yellowjackets before.

It was a black vortex of venom….winged death hiding in the lawn….waiting for me to whir over it with the lawn mower to release the full power of its fury.

I’ll have the last laugh though….when I go back at twilight tomorrow when they’ve had a chance to cool down….and spray a bunch of poison right down their hole and kill them all.

That’s vindictiveness in action.

They will never see it coming ….after they think that I couldn’t hold a grudge that long….hours later….after the initial attack.

That’s how I roll.

I have a memory like an elephant.

Inside the tube….inside my nose.

It doesn’t matter where the memories come from, really.

When it comes to expanding welts, I don’t forget and forgive.

You screwed up this time, bugs.

You messed with the wrong mower now, Holmes.

Die, bees.

Die.

“boogie wonderland” Earth, Wind and Fire

 

 

About Peter Rorvig

I'm a non-practicing artist, a mailman, a husband, a father...not listed in order of importance. I believe that things can always get better....and that things are usually better than we think.

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