I have my own hornet story, while not as interesting or cool as Eduardo’s, it’s worth mentioning.

I was working at school and playing basketball with the kids in the gym. I had turned to take a jump shot from just outside the right baseline when I felt a sharp pain in my right hand. I quickly dropped the ball and looked at my hand. On the fleshy part of my hand between my thumb and first finger was a yellow jacket throbbing up and down. It was mildly funny looking at him, because he appeared to be making sweet love to my hand, and pumping it full of his juice. I flicked him off, and squished him into the gym floor. My hand hurt for the remainder of the day, and I went home and put some ice on it.

Sometime during the evening my wife looked at my wound, and noticed a red line headed up my arm.

“That’s not good.” She said, “If that gets to your heart, you’ll be in some trouble.”

Begrudgingly I went to the ER, to see what they recommended. By this point my hand was starting to swell a bit, although not to the same proportions as Eduardo’s, and it hurt a lot. The Doctor looked at it, and told me I was going to need a shot.

She left, and returned a few seconds later with a massive needle. I bent over, and took the needle in my left flank. Doctor’s aren’t particularly kind when they give you shots in the flank. The needle hurt far worse than the sting that the winged Barry White had left me with. I went home, with a sore butt cheek, and a sore hand. Within a day the swelling subsided, and the red line vanished.

Now, much like Eduardo, I too avoid hornets, wasps, and anything with a stinger.