A Real Stinger*

Hey Kids.

So, okay. Couldn’t make this up if I tried.

I just flew into Florida for the weekend to spend Easter with my grandmother. She has a beautiful Mediterranean style house in central Florida. I haven’t been here in 5 years so it was quite a treat when I rolled up the driveway this afternoon with my father. All the plants are in bloom, the oranges are falling off of the trees, and every room is adorned with immaculately arranged flowers. My grandmother…lets call her Chile Relleno…has impeccable taste and highly cultivated skills when it comes to throwing dinner parties. She was throwing one tonight and I was nervous but excited to meet her friends and share in their company. I was also nervous as hell because I was going to meet her new boyfriend. They’d been dating for a year now and in old people time that’s quite a while. You know, things get pretty serious pretty fast when you’re staring down father death.

We had a lovely cocktail hour, followed by red meat, creamed vegetables, and pie. Post dinner cordials and coffee in the sun room made it official: I was back in the South. All the over 80 guests got slightly buzzed, probed me with questions about California, and reminisced about the good ‘ol days. Such a picturesque night could only be followed by a picturesque cigar by the pool with dad…

Shoot, I’ve put off giving him a name long enough, and for what’s coming next he dang well earned one. From now on dad will be known as Chimichanga (or “Chimi” for short). 

Chile Relleno and her charming new boyfriend (our meeting went well) had just announced they would be retiring for the night, so Chimichanga and I go to the pool area to have our cigar, reflect on the day, and bond. The lawn chair cushions were a tad damp with dew and Chimi suggests I flip them over before I sit, so that I don’t get my white cotton dress wet. (I have a history with sitting on dewy surfaces…see my past blog about Pork Sausage). It’s dark so I flip the cushion, spin about, and plop down. OUCH! I must have sat on an ol’ sticker burr. OUCH! I jumped up and turned around to dust away the vicious sticker burr. Wait a second. Was that sticker burr moving or was it just a shadow from the pool’s reflection or…

“Hey watch it there I think there’s some wasps on that cushion,” Chimichanga chimes in two ouches too late. In true hypochondriac form the pain in my bum went from a prick to a stab. Chimi offers a new realization “Is that a nest?”

Chimichanga got up to inspect the suspicious nest and I started realizing that I had either just experienced the most vicious phantom sticker burr prick ever, or those mother effing wasps stung me right in the buttocks. The pain was no longer mentally exaggerated. It had that burning venomous essence.  

“AH CRAP,” I exhaled as I grabbed my left butt cheek. “Those wasps stung me in the ASS!!!” I waddled into the kitchen on my designer heels with a cigar in one hand and my tender tush in the other, half laughing half panicking. Chimichanga is chasing after me yelling “put some ice on it!” I bust through the screen door and there is Chile Relleno and her boyfriend whispering in the kitchen. 


“Burrito, what happened?” Chile Relleno blurts out at me (obviously in half shock that I stormed in the room dancing like a pepto bismol commercial). “I sat on a wasps nest!” I eek. Chile Relleno suggests I put baking soda on it and soon my cigar is being replaced with a pack of ice and a box of Arm and Hammer. I can feel my rump swelling and I recall a scene from the Will Smith classic “Hitch.”


Chimichanga races into his room and returns with 4 children’s chewable Benadryl… he unwraps one and hands it to me. I look at him trying to raise one eyebrow. “Seriously?” He hands me the other three and jets away so I can dress the wound. I start in on chewing the four Benadryl as I lift up my apparently flimsy skirt to examine the damage: two stingers right in the kisser. SHOOT! I didn’t know wasps could leave stingers?! And through the dress? COME ON! I limp down the hall to Chimichanga’s room, wrap on the door, and meekly peek in.

“Dad, I know you haven’t seen my ass since I was 3 and that this may be borderline perverted, but I’ve got two stingers in my but and…..well Chile Relleno can barely see….” Chimichanga grabs his glasses sits on the foot of the bed and beckons me over.

I’m dying. This just seems so wrong. I bend over and wince in embarrassment more than pain at this point. Chimi is trying to be as clinical as possible. Suddenly, I feel a deeper prick.

“OUCH, what are you doing?” I yell
“Squeezing it out.”
“Nononono! You’re suppose to use a credit card or the back of a knife or something and scrape it right? What if you push it further in or release more venom or whatever!? I’ve seen this on Oprah. Dr. OZ.”
“Too late.”
“Dang it!”
“Put that ice on it now”
I pulled down my skirt. Yelled thanks and ran off in ultimate humiliation. My 59 year old father had just squeezed my 25 year old ass…. albeit to help me out of a very extreme medical predicament, but still. I took off in a blaze!
After I stuffed an ice pack up my cotton shorts and taped it in place I threw on some keds and returned to the scene of the crime to have my cigar. I needed a smoke now more than ever. Chimichanga was already there clearing the rest of the lawn chairs. When we finally settled in…me slightly lopsided. Chile Relleno’s boyfriend came out sat down next to us and promptly asked for our consent to marry Chile Relleno. Seriously? I get stung in the ass and he proposes. That kids Benadryl was starting to kick in. I mumbled my approval and hobbled to bed. I needed to pass out before things got weirder.


*Had to wait to post this ’til Chile Relleno formally announced her engagement.  Congratulations you two! 

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