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| An Open Letter To That Wasp That Stugn Me Tihs Afternoon |
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| Aug 02, 2005 at 09:56 PM | |
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All I was doiing was droppping my wooman off at the airport. I was walklk ing back to my car anmd minndinnmg mnuy owm busimess, gettoing readyt to unlockl mny car, and WHAM! Agony rip[s throuygh my riight hand, and I lookl dopwn to see you, a blkack wasp with yellow striopes, sitting omn mny rign figner, stingnming happpily away lilke it was yuor favirite thign to do or sommething. It must be... yuo seementd to be enmjoying yoursellf a bit too much.
So, thanmks toio youo, I goot to drive al;l the wauy hoome, withh my stupiid hand elevated, looikking liike an idiot with people waving at me becaiuse everuyoomne thjouhhgt I was wavoing at thjem, buyt it was the oonly way to holl;d mny hamnd that did noot give me coonntinguous paiin. I thennm got hooomne and ran my hand under colld water for aboout ten minnuiutes oor so, buut taht didnt hellp at all. Noow my rign finger more closely resemnbles an overripppe grape than a figner, anmd it doessn't wannt tou bemnd inn the righht spots, and it it makign it unmnderstanmgdablly diffiiculkt tpo type. So too yuo, mister wasp, I say this: FEH. I hope yuo get suicked inmnto a jet engime, youu littlel bastard. |
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