Pedicures and Suzumebachi

A friend recently posted a picture of this big ugly bastard from her back porch, which is just way, way too fuckin’ close to my back porch, at this point, for my money.

Nope to the hell nope.

Keep that thing in your own area because I will execute it with extreme prejudice if I see it, my friend.

At first a big, viral sort of terror started blooming in the comments on her post.

Not to mention in my chest.

But research for the win, because I did some asking around on the Googles and it’s not…let me repeat, it is not…the suzumebachi.

The Asian giant hornet.

The Asian giant hornet is orange, not yellow, and only the third or fourth segment on its disgusting ass parts, and a portion of its evil face, is orange. The rest is black.

To match its awful, fetid soul.

So I don’t need to burn down my house and move to Alaska yet.

Soon, maybe. But not just yet.

My work here is not done.

Because I went from therapy to use a pedicure gift certificate (there, dude, I made time during the day for self care, a’ight, so I’ll accept my applause in our next session) and my nail man, Denny, was pleased to see it.

“We eat those,” he told me happily.

He’s from Vietnam. I feel like saying that by way of explanation is somehow racist, but I don’t mean it that way.

These are Denny’s words.

I’m just reporting. To be clear.

He showed me a recipe on YouTube.

“You can have them all,” I told him. “I am not a fan.” He and his wife Amy laughed.

“I’m not even kidding a little bit,” I said, Aubrey Plaza style.

So if I find out where those little shiteyes are living imma send Denny their way and he is going to be a winner winner hornet dinner. I’ll even fry the little fuckers up for him.

But he’s gonna hafta kill ’em. Because just looking at this picture turns me into a little girl whose night light just broke.

Ugh. I’m gagging right now. And weeping openly, as Henry tries to console me by making my toes pretty.

He’s got his work cut out for him, on an unrelated note.

Alright, babies.

I’m out.


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