Wait Until Dark
That 1967 suspense classic really freaked me out at my first sleepover party. Though I think as an overprotected sleepover virgin, I was the only one terrified out of my wits watching the poor blind woman get terrorized by a bunch of jerks looking for a heroin filled doll. Odd choice for a bunch of ten-year-olds in late eighties suburbia. Led to all of us running around papering the neighborhood with toilet paper, which was fun until the cops came. Being ten, we didn’t really know how to do it, so we just tore off pieces and laid them on the bushes. Sad confetti.
That’s what I’m thinking about as Santo and I sit alone in the dark waiting to see if we are about to be attacked by huge hornets. The fact that my landlord just knocked on the door to ask for Raid is not reassuring. Ten minutes ago, he told us to close all the windows and turn off the lights. Wasp nest removal, Cambodia style. Backing up …
Thank god Santo turned total Taz about 30 minutes ago and I tried to take him for a walk. I might never have seen that about 15 young Cambodian guys, protected only by their 50 cent rain ponchos, were putting a ladder up to our fence. Using my basic Khmer vocabulary, was I was able to work out that they were about to spray petrol on the wasp nest that is now the size of an average beach ball, plus arm length chamber connecting it to a tree. The wasps themselves are the size of hummingbirds.
So here I sit, house lit only by my laptop screen, listening to worrisome exclamations from outside, and hoping the screens on those windows I couldn’t get closed in my panic hold up.
At least the dang dog calmed down.