Not all good deeds work

I am known on the camino as the wasp whisperer. I usher them away knowing they are safer in abstinence.
Anyway, regrettably I failed this wasp.

It went back and fell in my lager. I was gutted. It was convulsing, as Bill from California is my witness I fished the wasp out with a fork. I flicked the puir wee wretch upright and all looked good. It fluttered a wing and was trying to get the other one going.

Personally i think it was pissed. Anyway in the distance we heard an engine roar. Then we heard it louder. I looked at the wasp. The middle of the road seemed a safe place to be....until the van swerved to avoid a pellegrino.

It felt so surreal to rescue one of the skinheads of the insect community only to see it flattened by goodyear. Or not a good year for the wasp....