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The tip of a prickle 0

Dear Bradshaw,

            I’ve finally solved our wasp problem. They’d been frequenting our terrace for months and, as soon as I realized they’d built a hive in our only plant, a cactus, I grabbed a broom, cracked open the door, and (terrified of bees, wasps, hornets, yellow jackets, and every flying, stinging insect) poked the handle end of the broom outside. I knocked the pot around until the wasps had evacuated, and when the coast was clear, I ran out, grabbed the pot, and carried it through the living room and out the front door.

            After entering the elevator, I set the cactus down, pushed the button for the bottom floor, and as we started the descent, I suddenly entered the Twilight Zone or a scene from a horror film. The only thing lacking was the eerie music and a director to yell, “Action!” While going down, I heard something buzzing inside the cactus and glanced down to see a wasp crawl out of a hole in the soil.

            I stayed still, holding my breath in an attempt to relax my hammering heart as the wasp explored the tip of a prickle. Arriving with a sudden jolt, the wasp took flight and I opened the door in a panic, seeking to escape and finding a neighbor waiting to enter. With cactus in hand, I apologized, explaining about the wasp problem on our terrace and, after adding that a wasp was inside the elevator, I suggested he might want to think twice before entering. Rubbing his chin, he looked at me strangely, and then turned and headed up the stairs.

            Leaving the elevator doors open so the wasp would, hopefully, leave of its own accord, I left the building, abandoned the cactus on the sidewalk by the dumpster, and when I returned, the wasp was gone. I entered the elevator, hit the button for the eighth floor, and then ascended, relieved to be rid of those flying, stinging insects.

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