Wasp Huntin'
I saw a wasp in my room the other day. I've been stung before by the pesky creatures. Five times at once, to be exact. I was running under a playground slide when I was 7 or 8 and accidently bumped the nest with my head. There ensued an angry chase. I wasn't fast enough. So imagine my intense discomfort at the sight of one of those guys in my place of sleep. But this was not your normal, several centimeters large wasp. This was a trackerjacker. I was Katniss, this was the hunger games, and I didn't want to meet an end like Glimmer's. So when the insect flew into the closet I promptly shut the door and decided the clothes already on my floor would have to do for the next few days. The thing could sit in the dark and think about whose space it had invaded. And hopefully starve. But it didn't starve. Days later, I bravely rummaged through my closet, packing clothes for Norman and Houston, and ran into the sucker. I grabbed the nearest flip flop, summoned my dragon