"Galen? Galen, where the fuck is the wasp spray?"
Shane came stumbling in, glaring, covered in… Oh, dude. "Find a nest, darlin’?"
"Don’t make me hurt you. I was getting the decorations down. It was like being attacked by a million pissed of…" Shane stopped, shrugged. "It was just like it was! Angry stinging things!"
Yeah, and there was some swelling like whoa.
Like Jesus Christ Shane’s left eye just disappeared. Creepy.
"Tell you what, I’ll get you a Benedryl and a beer and I’ll call Rick. He’ll spray. You need to…" Deflate. "…plan where the tree is going to go."
"Same place it always goes. In front of the window." Shane let Galen walk him back to the tub, get him stripped and medicated and soaking, still fussing about how the wasps built nests in the creche and that if those little flying fucks stung the baby Jesus Shane was going to go nuclear.
Galen waited until the ranting turned into a dozy version of Rudolph the Horny Reindeer, then he went to call Rick and then look up wasp stings on Google. Maybe they should just go up to the Walmart and buy a bunch of palm tree lights for the deck...
***
Galen and Shane’s story starts in Rain and Whiskey
1 comment:
OH OUCHY /o\
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