The Armorer was kind enough to do a post on my Uncle. Which in turn led me to thinking about stories involving him, which are numerous.
One of the better ones, at my expense, I posted there. Because I’m lacking in creativity currently and still tired quite frankly I figured I’d repost it here.
My Father and uncle spotted a hornets nest on a tree limb that looked abandoned while we were riding on the back of the Stover Mtn.
My Uncle thwapped it solidly with a stick and pronounced it empty. He cut down the hornets nest, and promptly chucked it in to the backseat with me.
I must now deviate and explain a few things. First it’s February, and we are in a 1968 Volkswagen cut down for off-roading. Being the youngest I was assigned to the backseat.
So here I sit, with my feet practically in my pockets, and with a hornets nest in my lap.
Off we go back down the mountain when it starts: The buzzing.
I am convinced the damn thing is full of hornets. The buzzing continues. I casually mention the fact that I have no desire to be eaten alive by a horde of angry hornets. My father tells me he has little doubt in my ability to escape them should their be any inside.
The buzzing continues.
My Uncle Charlie mentions that maybe the heat in the Volkswagen might be stirring them up. I stare at him in what I presume to be horror. He shrugs and nonchalantly says “They hibernate in winter and I may not have thwacked them good enough with the stick. Could be full of them.”
I am near panic.
I stare at the nest on my lap, as the buzzing continues.
Then out of nowhere a single hornet lands on my jacket arm that is outstretched to hold the “oh-shit!” handles in the back.
I screamed like a 12 year old girl and proceeded to climb over my Uncle and practically out the window of the moving car.
If you have ever ridden in the backseat of a 60′s model VW you know what this had to entail
My father screeches it to a halt, by which point I complete my Dukes of Hazard-esque escape and land on the grounding rolling in the late snow and mud while smacking at myself for all I was worth with my hat as if I were on fire when I hear something else.
I look up to see both my father and my Uncle laughing absolutely hysterically.
An expert game caller, Charlie had been making the buzzing sound. And he had picked up the hornet, along with several others, off the ground when he cut down the nest. He threw the batch at me and the one had landed on my arm while I was staring at the nest in rapt attention thinking I was going to be eaten alive.
He’d sprayed the nest with Raid 2 days earlier, which is how they knew where it was and felt certain it was empty.
I had been, most effectively, had.
Tags: BloodSpite, Family, Funny, Hornets, Nest, Ouch!, Stories from Home, Technorati, Volkswagen
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