I committed MURDER at the Speedway gas station.

It’s Saturday night, and I’m feeling a bit peckish. And thirsty.

I can solve this with a quick trip to the Speedway gas station nearby. Get a couple of cold diet sodas, maybe some chips, and I’ll be fine.

Speedway is currently running their summer “buy three cold drinks, get 10c off gasoline” promotion, and I’m currently holding on to $2.50/gallon off right now. My plan is to save up as much as possible so that I can fill my tank for under a dollar. That would be epic.

Okay. Cold Sugar Free Red Bull, cold Mountain Dew Zero, cold Dr. Pepper Zero, and I’ve got a coupon for a free Coca-Cola, so let’s add a diet Coke to the mix.

Up to the register.

Where’s the cashier?

Well, the cashier was actually cowering in the back storage area. “I’m not coming out there,” she cried.

Okay, I realize some people might not find me attractive, but it’s not like I need to put a bag over my face.

“There’s a wasp over there!! I’m allergic to wasps!! He’s going to sting me and kill me!!!”

Where? Where’s the wasp?

“He’s right there,” she stammered, a finger pointing out from behind the storage area. “He’s in the Dutch box.”

After a few seconds of wondering if a “Dutch box” is either some Speedway slang for the cash safe, or a special promotion with Dutch Boy paint, I discovered that the “Dutch box” was actually a small cardboard box that held Dutch Masters cigars. Wait, people still smoke Dutch Masters? Wait, people still smoke???

And yeah, tucked in behind one of the cigars … was a half-dazed, twitching wasp. Or a hornet. Or a bumblebee. Or a yellowjacket. I dunno. But it looked ornery.

Maybe it was a male bee, maybe it was a female bee. I didn’t feel like looking that close to determine whether or not it was a son of a bee.

“Please don’t let him sting me!! Please!! I’ll die if he stings me!!”

And at that moment, I had three choices. I could either:

• (A) walk out of the store and say, “Not my problem.”
• (B) go back through the aisles and purchase some more food.
• (C) Buy the remaining Dutch Masters cigars and make the poor cashier reach in to get them for me.

And in the end, I chose Option (D).

And Option (D) meant going behind the sales counter, grabbing the nearest flat object available – which at that time was a USB charging plug – and squashing that bug with three or four good squashes.

“Is he dead? Did you kill him?”

I held up the box. “See for yourself.” Then I dumped what was left of the wasp in the trash.

There we go. Good deed for the day.

And if the Speedway security cameras wonder why some guy went behind the counter last night … now you know why. I committed wasp murder.

But I’m just saying … hey, Speedway … do you THINK it would be prudent to maybe, just maybe, keep a can of bug spray nearby for just such an occasion?