The nest was located near the roof at the side of the house between my bedroom and Geoff's and I remember we had to be very careful about keeping doors and windows screened or we'd be infested. We'd each been stung at least once by this time and it was obviously a real safety hazard.

One Saturday morning after the boys had been out, somebody threw a rock at the thing, which obviously irritated the hell out of the hornets. They got agitated and several gained entrance through a hole in Geoff's screen, making for a very unpleasant awakening and bringing on the premature beginning of his hangover.

I was already awake and in the kitchen making coffee. Geoff came tearing out of his room in his bathrobe, cursing up a storm and raced through the place in search of a weapon. He snatched the broom from the kitchen (for the first time, I might add) and went out into the backyard, where he grabbed a ladder and dragged it around to the side of the house. He made enough noise to wake Les and Terry, who staggered out of their respective bedrooms to see what was up.

"Geoff," I said, following him. "It's 7:30. What are you doing up at this hour?"

"I'm going to get rid of that bloody nest," he snarled.

"Uh, Geoff, I don't think that's such a great idea" I said. "Let's call the landlord. He can hire somebody who knows what they're doing to take it away."

"Fuck that. I've had it," he said.

Les and Terry, always up for a laugh, were egging him on from the safety of the house.

"Go for it, man. You can take the damn thing down it you hit it right at the top where it's attached to the eavestrough" said Les.

"Yeah, go for it. But I bet you ten bucks it'll take you at least two swings" Terry added.

"Geoff, at least come in and put some clothes on," I pleaded, praying that logic might work - though perhaps I should have realized that attempting to reason with a man famous for putting a skunk in a headlock was a futile exercise.

"You're going to get hurt." I gave it once last try. "Geoff, there might be thousands of hornets in there - let's wait for the landlord."

"Screw that - we could be waiting forever for that bastard. No way -- I'm going to deal with this now."

Geoff steadied the ladder and grimly climbed up with the broom tucked under his arm. We were watching from my bay window and had an unimpeded view.

He wound up as far as he could without losing his balance and gave the hive an almighty smack.

For a moment, there was silence. Then the enraged hornets gathered in a thick cloud and circled Geoff's head like an enormous black halo.

He screamed -just the once - and would likely have continued to scream had not the breath been knocked out of him when he fell off the ladder. He landed awkwardly and tried to stagger away from the swarm, which clung to him like a malevolent shadow.

I was horrified and grabbed my phone to call an ambulance. Terry and Les, however, were writhing helplessly on the floor, laughing so hard that they were both gasping and teary eyed.

Geoff's desperate flailing had loosened the tie of his bathrobe (and to my horror, it soon became plain why my girlfriends called him Bullwinkle). It flapped open, exposing his tender flesh to the rage of the hornets.

"ARRRGGGGGGG!!!!!", he howled. "They're in my armpits!"

"Run for it, man!" urged Terry and Geoff took to his heels. We watched as he sprinted down the street, mostly naked and being hotly pursued by a cloud of furious insects. He only eluded them, he reported, by ducking into the corner store and pulling the door shut behind himself. He stood there, shivering and delirious, while the store's owner cursed him out in Cantonese.

He staggered home about an hour later, flesh blooming with stings in locations so intimate that I knew my friends would be safe from his attentions for the foreseeable future.

And this was one of the less bizarre of his exploits. Next time I'll tell you about his adventures in arson.

Till next time,

Morrigan