The first of many
During the month of July, the days in Bifton town were often somewhat unbearable due to the summer heat. Greasy children manned unsteady tables at every street corner, selling ice-cold Lemonade and whatever else accidentally ended up in the mix. The other children who had no interest in marketing charged through the streets playing kissy catch, they only did this if enough pretty girls were out. If all attractive girls were at home with their mothers, a ball game would be the selected past time. Also in Bifton you have the free spirited town's people dancing away through fields of daisies while the upper class folk, they clash every Saturday morning at council meetings that are really only ever about spending cuts and then afterwards, they harmonize at an upper-class dinner party. These social gatherings were only ever hosted by the Mayor.
On the outskirts of town rests a beautiful serene pond. Lily-pads float upon the steady water while the bug's life blissfully thrive in the sparkling liquid and the Greenland that surrounds it. Bird nests cling to nearby bushes; each one securely holds an egg - just one precious little egg.
Built on the muddy edges of the bath that only the wildlife bathes in, are small, wooden piers that have been carefully constructed by the local fishermen. They pacifically built these so they have a secure surface to park their rear ends while they compete in their hardcore sport - that's not so hardcore to the average person.
Currently sat fishing on one of the sturdier piers that Bifton pond has to offer is Harold and his young boy Junior. The elderly man has no interest in the communal activities the town have to offer. Instead, he enjoys spending hours by the water, fishing for anything more impressive than a goldfish but still only ever getting something as impressive as a goldfish. His son Junior, he loves it. Every catch his father manages to pull onto the bank resembles a deadly, man eating shark to the inexperienced eight year old. Poking his finger in the mouth of the captured fish is as extreme as holding fire without being burnt or standing up to the local school bully without obtaining a cracking wedgie.
Buzzing a meter away from the fishermen is a wasp, this is not an ordinary wasp covered with stripes. Oh no, this one wears yellow and black polka dots complete with a stinger twice the size of any other to match. The flying predator immediately decides to pay attention to the human beings when she spots the younger of the two moving around excitedly. Feeling inquisitive, she hums on over toward them to investigate.
"Dad, Daddy-look a wasp, it's a wasp-a big one!" Squeals Junior and in doing so frightens away any nearby fish.
Angry about the sudden lack of fish caused by his son's reaction to the female wasp, Harold climbs to his feet, opens his backpack and searches for a weapon. After a minute or two, Harold is finally satisfied with his choice and pulls out a local newspaper before rolling it into a makeshift baton - A paper bat that only a shit surfing fly would ever find lethal.
Junior's father prepares for battle while the dotted wasp, she looks on unimpressed. "Take that and that you foul beast," yells Harold as he takes part in a one way scuffle and Junior been witness, stands and stares open-mouthed.
Not impressed at all with the amount of effort she has to make in order to dodge the exaggerated swings, the wasp simply flies up, lands upon his sweaty head and happily pierces Harold's forehead with her original stinger and in doing so, implants the first of many natural bombs before flying off unimpressed with the behavior of the weird being.
"Are you ok Daddy?" Junior asks as his father jerks once releasing blood from his nose, next he jolts forward while spewing a red liquid from his mouth and then comes the finale, Harold shakes uncontrollably to the point of explosion and in doing so, paints the wonderful Greenland and his horrified son a gruesome shade of red.
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