Wasp-town Massacre or Spark

Oh the horror.

In my petit jardin (little garden ), I host a snapshot of the natural world.. co-existing.. thriving. The toads. The moles. The American House Sparrow (according to the bird book). The Morning Doves (SAVE THEM! Stop the shooting, they love).
And the WASPS. As someone* recently informed me, I was home to at least 100 or 1000 (not so good in the number memory) wasps. The wasps resided in several dwellings (they sorta went condo) in and around my maison. One hive resided on the front of my house. Another duplex could be found on the outside of my fence. And three or four residences were found to be in my outside light fixture. Which incidentally does not seem to be working.

We/I know they are wasps, because they have this spindly legs that sort of drag when the fly. They are persistent.
They can't swim worth shit (keep drowning themselves in the kitty water bowl) and they scare people. One would think that given my kinda princessy-nature that this Kennedy-like Wasp-Compound (except they're Wasps, not Catholic) habitating in my front yard would work me up. Throw me into a tizzy. The House of Representatives throws me into a tizzy. The fundamentalist right throws me into a tizzy (I've just come to terms wit the fact that I'm a religiousist... sorta like racist, but a little more broad and a lot more narrow). The wasps, do not throw me into a tizzy. We co-exist. I sun. They sun. I read outside. They fly outside. I work in the garden. They eat the garden. It's all fine.

It is not fine however for the friends.. for the students. People, including my cute little paper boy (Red.. I don't know his name. but he has red hair) run in fear of the wasps. They, (the people not the wasps) contort their bodies in order to avoid being in the same air space. Haven't these people been on subways before? Space is meant to be shared. That's why I live alone. sheesh.

So as the Wasp problem escalates, I happenstance upon this spark. This spark, whose trade is of an inutitive nature, also seems to find joy in the definitive. The pragmatic. The kill. I --am lover of the creature. Cannot kill a bug unless it's hurting me directly. For example, I cannnot kill a spider--I've been told I walk with Spider (my animal soul). And like many, I have read Charlotte's Web, thus I highly doubt one could kill a spider and not see her weaving her web which would read, 'Don't kill me, I'm kind'. I cannot kill something. But I do get somewhat turned on by people who can. A conundrum? A contradiction. Not really. I'm like dependently independent.. if you know what I mean.

So, Spark comes over for the kill. He wears one black glove, and a Lavender shirt-tight and fitted. A disguise? Camoflauge?
Well.. maybe more for the East Village, but it works(ed) pour moi. mmh. I felt safe. Screw Brinks, Spark is greater security,
and at this point doesn't charge a monthly fee.

I give him the kill-foam, and I go inside. I ask him if he believes in Karma. Not a good question as he is about ready to
destroy a generation and future generations of wasps. I'm reminded of this quote,

We all enter through the same door, but live in different cells.

Why I thought of this I'm not sure. It could've just been literal as Spark walked, well-sorta ran to my door following the foaming. Or perhaps, I was hoping however that this evening his cell would be my cell. Back to the wasps. He kills all (lickety split) three condos and enters; out of breath, a little exhilarated and ready to rumble. Or receive payment..

I know the wasps had to go. They were just one more obstacle, contributing factor to my life/ alone. I can just hear 'em (people not wasps), "She's got neurotic cats and a village of wasps, too! And she eats organic!"

Sharing space is fragile and requires more than just co-existing. I mean, you can't let somebody in with too much stuff flying around. People won't want to come over if they just don't feel safe. I know this.

I never have understood that to maintain one life one often has to end somebody else's... the horror.

*someone =Spark