The Killing Jar 2: Careless Wasper


I don’t know how long it’s been.

The old devices for measuring time stopped working years ago.

There are rumours among the old’uns about an ancient time, a better time, a time with houses and freedom and culture and fun.

A time when humans held sway.

A time before the wasps came.

Now we labour all day inside their paper mines, foraging for scraps to pass up to our wasp overlords so they can build yet more nests for their foul offspring.


If we slouch or fall asleep on the job they fly around frantically in our faces until we try to swat them away, then they sting us on the eyeball or tongue.

It feels like all of this could’ve been avoided somehow.

At night when the wasps are sleeping, drunk on paper, we huddle around camp fires inside our prison hives, and some of the old’uns tell the tell.


There was a war they say.

There was a road warrior who brought the fight to the wasps they say.

A handsome man they say.

Well endowed they say.


(Ciphers for ugly with a small penis they say)



They say he was humanity’s last chance to halt the wasp advance, to turn the tide, to make a stand.

They say he had 40,000 years of human technological progress at his disposal.

They say he tied some string around an old jam jar and poured a bit of syrup into it.


Yes, it is with no small measure of regret that I must report back that my wasp countermeasures enjoyed diminished success.

The wasps eventually offered two of their brethren up to the syrup out of sympathy.

In a way I think they were saluting my courage.

But for some reason, my old jar gambit(which let’s face it probably only happened in a dream at best) had literally no effect whatsoever.

However the fly paper that I hung up did catch a few of them. But I have a horrible feeling that this only served to prompt the wasp war hawks to call in reinforcements from Eastern Europe.

Now there seems to be this new uber-belligerent criminal class of wasps hanging around in cliques in the garden, looking for trouble.

So not only did my counter measures fail, but they seem to have unwittingly given rise to a new era of provocation and tit for tat reprisals.


All I can do now is sit back in awe and watch as the new wasp city takes shape, knowing that I played a big part in the downfall of the human race.

Pray for me please.

And send Raid.



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