When I was a little kid, one of those flying cunts stung my brother. So I vowed bitter revenge.

Over the years of my childhood, I caught dozens, if not hundreds of them with my net. Having caught one, I used to hold the net in front of a cross spider’s web, so that the wasp, triumphantly but mistakenly believing it had regained its freedom, had to fly straight into the web.

And then I watched the little asshole get destroyed. I’m pretty sure that to this day, I’m worshipped as a god by the local cross spider population.