One hot July evening back in the day.
Scene: The Yellowjacket's nest in the front yard and the screened in porch. Dad and Mom were enjoying a cold iced tea. Dad had just pulled out a pack of smokes. Out of nowhere he heard a loud voice shout.
"Bangalore! Fire in the hole!"
Earlier that day he had run over a yellowjacket's nest with the lawn mower and shortly after located the nest and marked it. He saw my brother and I and had said, "Hey, you two, there's a Yellow jacket nest over by the cedars trees. Take care of it."
He figured we'd fill up a pop bottle with gasoline, stuff the neck into the hole and when the bottle was empty throw a lighted match at it.
As was sometimes the case, he had figured wrong.
"Holy $hit!" he shouted as he grabbed my mother, picked her up off her feet and charged back into the house, carrying her through the living room and into the dining room in the back of the house. He gently but quickly laid her on the floor and laid down next to her.
When my confused mother started saying "What's going on? What's going on?" and started to get up he reached over and pushed her head down.
"Stay down!" he shouted.
A couple of seconds there was a flash and a terrible roar. My mother gasped. "Where are the boys?"
"They're OK," replied Dad. "They know what they're doing."
"What are you going to do about this?" asked Mom.
"Nothin'," he snapped. "This one is on me. It's my own damned fault! I told them what to do but not how to do it. I should have known better." he said as he headed outside. He was not a happy camper.
He joind my brother and I checking out the moon sized smoking crater in the front yard. He was shaking his head sadly as he surveyed the damage. Then he noticed the wheelbarrow and garden cart nearby. Both were full of dirt. His attitude changed a little.
"You two got this job doped out pretty good," he said, nodding at the wheelbarrow and cart. "Just fill it in tomorrow morning. Is you know who going to call the police?"
"He's not home. We checked beforehand," I replied.
"Thank God for small miracles," he said.
He stared at the crater for a couple of seconds and started laughing. "That's a pretty good one," he said and walked off. As he walked off he noticed the charred, smoldering rag he had marked the nest with hanging from a nearby tree. He looked at it and shook his head.
Just then a car stopped on the street and someone got out. It was a scout leader that wanted to talk to Dad. He took one look at the smoking crater, looked at Dad and and said, "Jesus! Who the hell threw a Willie Peter on your front yard?"
Dad shrugged and casually answered. "The boys just took care of a Yellowjacket nest. That's all."
"I'll say they did," he chuckled.
The two spoke briefly and my scout leader turned to leave. He took another look at the crater and laughed like hell for a minute and left.
My mother started to approach and asked Dad what had happened. "Never mind. It's taken care of," he replied and the two of them went back inside.
The next morning we filller in the crater, rakes the topsoil and got a couple of empty tin cans full of grass seed out of the big bag dad kept in the basement for such gala festivities and reseeded the dirt.
As we reseeded the area we did a rain dance prayed for rain.
The following summer.
I walked into the kitchen and saw an empty quart pop bottle and a book of matches on the counter. When he heard me enter the kitchen Dad walked in.
"There is an underground Yellowjacket's nest up by the big maple tree near the street. It is about six inches from a yellow handled screw driver I threw there to mark it. "NOW using only THIS MUCH gasoline and these matches," he said, and pointed at the bottle and matches on the counter. "Take care of it."
"Could I...." That was as far as I got.
"NO!"
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