Friday Fictioneers
The landlord stared at the enormous nest above the porch.
“Easy,” he said. “We knock it down and run.”
His wife stared at him.
“You’re sixty-three.”
“So?”
“You get breathless putting your socks on.”
He ignored her and raised the broom.
From the nest came an ominous buzzing.
One wasp appeared.
Then five.
Then considerably more than he could count.
The broom slowly lowered.
His wife handed him the phone.
“Who am I calling?”
“An expert.”
“Good.”
He backed towards the door.
“And tell them it’s urgent.”
The buzzing grew louder.
Apparently, the tenants had rejected the eviction notice.
PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson.
With love, coffee, poetry, and stardust,
— Maggie The Afterlove Voice 💫
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