by Bodwyn Wook
Whenever I see a big wasp nest up in a tree, instead of waiting for the Winter freeze to kill the adult wasps so that I can fetch it indoors as a curiosity, I reckon that I could as well take it down now & go chuck it in at somebody’s open window….
Moving right along, I think to remember that in the second or third grade in the Fall in Minnehaha Elementary School at E 52nd St & 40th Av S in Minneapolis, one of the little sh-ts (NOT me for a wonder!) brought in a small wasp nest that then, in the steam heating, began to buzz & play up. Oh, there was a Hell of an uproar. Miss Imig (it was in her 2nd grade class, I remember now, it was the Fall of 1956 & Ike was busy being reelected) was a man-hungry young woman with bad skin, dishwater hair skinned back in a bun & that drenched herself in scent; she proceeded to get all girly & helpless & go “eek…SHRIEK!” and so we all had to go out in the hall.
Then, Mr Cameron, the fifty-year-old boilerman, came in with some sort of Christawful spray & soaked the room down, swept up the gassed & dying insects & their smashed nest & took away the lot in the fire shovel to throw into the coal furnace in the basement. On his way out to the stairs down to the mysterious coal-oily depths to dispose of the litter & to masturbate himself into the fiery coals over the mental image of Miss Imig in her charcoal tight skirt with the rather wide seat, he called out cheerfully:
“In you go, kidlets…ALL safe now!”
The poison fumes at any rate suffocated for the rest of the day the atrocious reek of…musk.
(One time at our house, Mrs Foss or Mrs Schwarzbauer lit another Chesterfield cigaret & growled to Mom over coffee:
(“To tell you the truth, I think that these oversexed young bitches make the little boys all nervous!”
(There were two of these guilty pieces of work, to be precise:
(Miss Imig, miserably desperate; and, Mrs Landstrom, who was married to a young architect on the make, Lyle, and who would have just laughed — very probably out loud — at any dreary presumptions on the part of any of OUR fathers. Now, Mrs Foss & Mrs Schwarzbauer both were realists about “what I got at home,” so I really do think they actually were afraid for the mentalities of their sons, and not of any very hypothetical danger to any marriage of theirs.
(All of the rest of the teachers, though, there in Minnehaha Elementary School at E 52nd St & 40 Av S in Minneapolis were nice, comfortable old ladies in the 1950s, not overly exhilarating & in the main very kindly….)
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[26 September 2013]