**

I go to put the "safety lockout device" back on and notice there is a wasp flying around. Now as a manly-man, I have no problem with wasps, bugs or even the occasional tiger or abominable snowman. I continue my job and that's when I notice the wasp has landed on a partially built nest. One wasp ... no big deal, right? Then I notice the bastard is girding up his loins for battle! He is following my every move. It was then that the "Crouching Writer, Hidden Stinger" sequence began. In slow motion, the wasp launched himself at my eyeball. Luckily I had the latest in Army defensive gear with me ... okay, I was wearing my glasses, but work with me here ...

With the echo of someone screaming like a girl ringing in my ears, I hear the deep "thud" of the wasp's body as it hits my glasses. The tail, right in the center of my vision, blots out the rest of the world as it hammers repeatedly (and futilely, I might add) at the glass trying to gouge out my eye, leaving me at its mercy. At that point I take the offensive and perform a double roundhouse kick with a half gainer on my adversary. With the girls screams still ripping at my eardrums (would someone please tell that bitch to shut the FUCK UP already?) my feet become Ali-like, shuffling with a life of their own, taking me down the hill as my punches knock my protective helmet (okay, it was my Dallas Stars All Star Cap, but again? Work with me people!) off, skew my glasses and send the Bluetooth Device of Death skittering across the pavement.

I was an animal, reacting on instinct and instinct alone, years of survival skills and other manly-man stuff kicking in, forcing my fears and doubts into the cellar, along with my nuts. Luckily, my personality kicked in when I suddenly saw the edge of the road and, with my sharp x-ray, thermostatic peripheral vision, the wheels and sideboards of the SUV I almost ran out in front of. Stopping mere centimeters, nay, millimeters from a horrible death, my survival skills took over and forced the raging warrior back into his box, deep inside my Id.

It was at this time I noticed the screams of the scared girl had stopped. I looked around the area for her, preparing to leap back into action if need be, when I realized ... I was alone. The screams had been coming from my throat all the time. I began replaying the battle of the titans in my mind and had an epiphany. The screams were not those of fear, they were a battle cry whose pitch was tuned exactly to strike a deep fear and bring the most destruction on my enemy by vibrating his exo-skeletal armor into dust. That settled, I gathered my Helmet of Doom, straightened my glasses and re-armed myself with the Bluetooth Device of Death, and prepared myself for the expedition to hunt the elusive jelly donut.

About this time I noticed the safety tag still in my hands. Shit! Well, Mssr. Le Wasp? You got lucky today but there will be other days, to be sure.

I head to the store for my Diet Coke and donut and while I am there, look for more armament, in the form of wasp killer. No such luck. Roach killer, but I faced and defeated TreeRoachman last week. Hmmmmm. Bathroom spray? No. Besides, it's the boys who will need that when the get up and walk into the bathroom this morning. *chuckles* (I love leaving surprise gifts for them!) I know! Maybe we have some at the office! Brilliant! (Thank You for noticing.) I call in on the super-secret, government employee only hot line to ask (and here's where the government efficiency comes in ...) but unfortunately, no we don't. Hmmmmm. I'm thinking I could run to another store or check in with Q (devious gadget guy) to see what devious gadgets he has for me, when M (boss lady) says "Maybe we should get Doctor Workorder (guy who takes care of putting in work orders DUH!) to put in a work order in on it." Me: "Well I could go get a cup of gas and throw on it. That kills them quick! *rubbing hands and chuckling evilly*" M: "No we better let Doctor Workorder call the bug people."

So here I sit, eating my donut (mmmmmm ... jelly) and Diet Coke waiting for the bureaucrats to shuffle enough paperwork to choke a horse so someone can go out and kill this one, single wasp so I can go out and turn the sign back on. Your tax dollars at work! God, I love my job. Toodles!