The wasp diaries, Conclusion/Epilogue

With the aid of some extremely toxic wasp killer, my painting, my broom, my shoe, and a lot of hands-shaking-in-mortal-fear that somehow did not manage to dislodge the damn wasp (thank goodness, but was it growing ROOTS or what?!), I almost killed it and then, like the coward I am, left it to suffocate and die in agony in the hallway while I ran into my room and locked the door. 

Yes, I did cry a few hysterical tears. 

No, I did NOT stuff anything under the gap in the door because even though my imagination gets a little feisty sometimes, I didn't really believe that it would claw it's way down 10 feet of hallway and into my apartment and then lie on the floor outside my bedroom door, stinger up, so that I would step on it with my bare feet in the morning. 

Yes, I did keep checking the hallway every time I absolutely had to use it to make sure the thing was 1) still there and 2) dead. 

Eventually, it was.  But I still couldn't bring myself to retrieve the corpse and flush it down the toilet.  Because of reasons.  That are not rational at all. 

THE END. 

For now . . .