It’s Thursday afternoon, and I can’t put it off any longer. I’ve got to go downstairs to the laundry room and try to locate the poodle/wasp.
Even though it’s daylight, the partly closed window blinds will keep the room somewhat darkened, so I carry a replacement light bulb with me in one hand, a fly swatter in the other. I slowly open the laundry room door.
I hear no buzzing.
I quickly unscrew the light bulb I had whacked out of commission the night before, and I replace it with the new bulb. With the laundry room bathed in light, I immediately see the poodle/wasp on the floor. Just as I had hoped, I had hit my target (along with the light bulb) with one mighty blow last night.
Still, there is the possibility that the poodle/wasp is playing possum, or that he’s morphed into a zombie, so I approach him with extreme caution. I bend down and cover him with the head of the fly swatter, and I apply pressure.
Holy crap! He’s still alive, and he’s buzzing like a runaway chainsaw! He’s vibrating so hard, he’s making it hard for me to keep him pinned to the floor.
Just as he’s about to vibrate his way out of my clutches, I step onto the fly swatter head. The resulting CRUNCH sounds like a large person sat on a dozen bags of corn flakes.
My two-day nightmare is over. Poodle/wasp has been vanquished.
Game, set, match.
I leave my victim on the floor, so that later in the day I can show my wife who wears the poodle/wasp-stomping pants in the family.
She’s not terribly impressed. In his squished and vanquished state, he seems much smaller than the monster that flew at my head the night before. Today he looks nothing like the spawn of a poodle and a wasp. More like … um, a very big wasp.
Just the same, I’m hoping he doesn’t have friends or immediate family in the area.