Revenge of the Yellowjacket

Fiorella, the beloved of all flying insects, woke up yesterday morning with what felt like an inch-long hematoma in the middle of her forehead. In her younger days, she might have painted it over and told everyone it was a bindi--the red spot indicating all good things that India Indians will put on their foreheads--but now that Fio is older and wiser, she decided to check herself out in the bathroom mirror.

Hmm...the mirror confirmed the worst. She racked her mind for any mishap she'd had the day before, but couldn't come up with anything except...except that, well--she'd been buzzed by something that looked like a yellow jacket, and she'd swatted at it a couple of times.

Then she noticed that bulge seemed to have a center like she'd been stung. Then she noticed there was another, smaller, bulge next to her left eyebrow, like she'd been bitten twice. Then she noticed that hour-by-hour, as the bump lost its bulge, blood was trailing down under her skin on the side of her nose to the trough under her eyes, just like it had when she hematoma-ed after the Rolling Stones ambushed her last year.

But what the heck, there was no pain, the bulge kept getting smaller, the blood was dissipating, and when she found a dying yellow jacket under her couch-side table, she stepped on it.