Giant Ichneumon Wasp

 

See that guy? He's called a Giant Ichneumon Wasp. He wants to bite your head off and lay babies in your stomach.

He also loves to scare you. Especially when you are cutting down a tree in your back yard during the summer and he suddenly appears without warning, crawling towards you as if unafraid, sure that your feeble attempts at personal defense will fail. He knows that his corn-dog-like size and wasp-like appearance will paralyze you with fright. He also knows he is vaguely tiger-colored, which means he is one bad dude. You will be unable to run away. You will be his.

You eye what appears to be a 3-inch stinger, knowing that if you run, you will expose your back, allowing him to sting you in the spinal cord, resulting in instant full-body paralysis. But if you stand there, he will probably gouge out your eyes right before kicking you in the genitals. Your mind races. You've never seen any insect like this, but you know his wasp-like appearance and vague scorpion rear-end mean danger. You also know that he knows this. You sink in despair as you realize he is winning the psychological battle.

Then, you remember that you have this in your hand. You remember that you have opposable thumbs, and have harnessed the power of electricity. You realize that you are not in some Pleistocene time where giant insects rule the world, but that you are in the 'burbs. You realize that you are wearing the worn-out t-shirt and faded levi's of the weekend warrior.

You take your formidable suburban scimitar and strike down the giant ichneumon wasp with all your might, destroying a small portion of a birch tree in the process. The wily insect is quick, but not quick enough, for he is torn asunder by the multiple whirling knives of your blade. As for the tree - it is no matter. You were cutting it down anyway.

You bask in the radiant glory of defeating the giant ichneumon wasp, saving yourself and your family from their terrible paralyzing sting, and being made into incubators for their young. You are the Bobby Fisher to their Russian chess match of corn-dogged sized fear and tiger-stripped intimidation.

Then, you find out that "he" was really a "she", and that she is quite harmless and really sorta cool.

Then you realize that you are a giant tool.