Sally Breslin: My Life: YELLOW JACKETS! WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE YELLOW JACKETS?!

The last time I was stung by a yellow jacket, I was about 10 years old and had made the mistake of standing barefoot on a hole in the ground that turned out to be the entrance to their nest.

Granted, I probably would have been ticked off, too, if some dumb kid had been standing on my house, but on that day I learned just how vicious and vindictive yellow jackets could be. Also on that day, I learned dance steps worthy of a Michael Jackson video, courtesy of getting stung on the bottom of my foot.

I’ve been fortunate not to have been stung by any type of bee or wasp since, especially because, for some unknown reason, my house seems to have become a B&B for flying insects over the years. They just keep gravitating to it and building nests. Last year there was a small hornets’ nest hanging from my back-porch light. It didn’t really bother me to have it there. In fact, I even referred to the family of hornets in it as “The Greens” (a tribute to The Green Hornet). Then when winter came, I went out there with a broom and knocked down the nest – and part of my porch light with it.

But this summer I’ve been faced with my most challenging bee/wasp situation ever. And because of it, I currently am at war…World War Bee.

Every morning I take a three-mile walk on my land, which involves circling my property four times. Part of my hike takes me across the front lawn. Well, about two weeks ago, every time I walked across the lawn, I heard a loud buzzing sound coming from the corner of the front porch. I finally got close enough one morning to check out what was making the sound...and was greeted by a swarm of very agitated-looking yellow jackets. The message they were giving off clearly said, “This is OUR porch now, lady, and unless you want to end up covered in a bunch of agonizingly painful red welts, you will leave… NOW!”

They didn’t have to tell me twice.

As I ran off, I couldn’t help but recall Indiana Jones in the film “Raiders of the Lost Ark” when he came across a den of snakes and shouted, “Snakes! Why did it have to be snakes?!” Just like him, I found myself thinking, “Yellow jackets! Why did it have to be yellow jackets?”

That’s because yellow jackets are the supervillains of the wasp and bee world, second only to killer bees. They not only are aggressive, often stinging someone just for the heck of it, they also, unlike other bees and wasps, can sting multiple times. And they are extremely territorial, so when one of them stings you, it releases some kind of pheromone that signals all of its buddies to come join the party. Oh, and yellow jackets also love a good chase, sometimes pursuing a victim for up to a quarter of a mile.

At dusk that night, I checked out the porch and saw, popping up between the slats on the floor of it, the top of a large nest. That was when I officially declared war. The next day I went to the hardware store and bought a large can of wasp killer. The label said it had a 27-foot spray range, and not only killed on contact, it also would destroy the nest. The directions said to spray it directly into the crack, preferably after dark when the inhabitants would be dormant and all tucked in for the night.

So later that night, I donned a hat, face mask, gloves, a thick hoodie and boots, and went outside to do battle. I sprayed the entire gap between the floorboards where the nest was poking up through them, and then, without pausing to check out anything, dashed back into the house and slammed the door.

The next morning, I ventured outside, positive I would see a pile of yellow-jacket corpses lying with their little feet sticking up in the air under the porch. Not only wasn’t there even one dead body, the number of tiny winged-assassins seemed to have increased.

Unfortunately, so did their nest. I could see it hanging down from underneath the porch, and it was bigger than I’d anticipated…much bigger. If they kept building at the rate they were going, I figured my house would be completely encased in wasps' nest material from the roof to the basement within a week.

“Hire an exterminator,” everyone advised me. “Don’t try to mess with yellow jackets on your own. They’re too dangerous!”

Easy for them to say. On my budget, the only exterminator I could afford would be a kid with a slingshot.

So I bought another fresh can of wasp killer and once again donned my battle outfit – in 90-degree heat. This time, I unloaded just about the entire can into the nest as I cackled fiendishly, “Take that, you little freeloaders!”

And just after sunrise, I once again went out to check the results of my sneak attack. The sound of loud, agitated buzzing should have been a clue that I hadn’t succeeded in ridding myself of the enemy. Sure enough, my uninvited tenants were livelier than ever.

I began to suspect they were a new mutant strain that’s immune to any product that says “wasp killer” on the label.

“Just sell the house and get out of there,” more than one friend told me. “Let’s face it – the place obviously is cursed.”

Oh, sure. I can just see it all now. The prospective buyers will climb up the front steps and be attacked by a swarm of yellow jackets. Then I can invite them inside and offer them a nice cool drink of water from my arsenic-filled well. They’ll probably leave skid marks in their haste to get away from the place.

So I guess the yellow jackets and I are destined to remain housemates.

I’m looking forward to having tea with the queen.

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Sally Breslin is an award-winning syndicated humor columnist who has written regularly for newspapers and magazines all of her adult life. She is the author of several novels in a variety of genres, from humor and romance to science-fiction. Contact her at: sillysally@att.net.