The tiny terrorist

The fun-side of terror!

Immediately on entering my friend’s room, I discovered the presence of the terrorist inside. She hadn’t yet paid any attention to me. But there was something in the air about her that was obviously affecting my friend’s demeanor.

My friend, normally given to a spontaneous display of cheer on every occasion of our meeting was not his usual self. His face betrayed great uneasiness and an expression of fear marred his ever-confident appearance. Despite his having made an attempt to open his mouth, no words of greeting could emanate from it and his half agape oral aperture remained transfixed for some considerable time. His display of utter helpless in the matter of being able to maintain his composure made evident the awesome effect she had been exerting on him.

And it was all most ironical. My friend with his abundantly robust physique need have feared her little on account of physical proportions for she was too puny and diminutive in comparison. She couldn’t have been bossing him either for the simple reason that my friend, sitting in the air-conditioned room of his office, was himself the boss around. He owned the place.

The factor playing havoc with my friend’s psyche was the sure knowledge of possession of a frightful weapon on her person. And the manner in which she threatened him, keeping him covered from all angles, plainly made evident her intention of putting the weapon into use.

He was sitting too far from the solitary door to have any chance of making a successful attempt to escape from the room. In any case, so menacingly threatening was her presence that he was unable to stir from his seat.

Seeing my friend reduced to a scared mass of protoplasm, I felt most bemused! I’d had some experience in dealing with her kind in the past, and although on the first few occasions my plight had been rather like my friend’s, I gradually learnt how to tackle the type of situation he was facing. Fright, therefore, was not the emotion that her sight could have evoked in me and it amused me no end to find my otherwise courageous friend feeling so totally unnerved.

She must have been a good mind reader. My amused state, and her inability to strike terror in my mind the way she could do in my friend’s case, appeared to have incensed her. She diverted her attention and proceeded to mount a furious assault on me. As she charged at me, I ducked out a range to avert being stricken on the forehead, mindful all the time of the serious consequences in the event of her being able to make use of that frightful weapon of hers.

Simultaneously, I brought both my hands up, with what my friend later described as lightning rapidity, and gripped her entire self between the flat of my palms. It took me a mere few seconds more to crush the life out of her. The tension in the room had palpably relaxed by the time I opened my palms to lay before my friend the crushed remains of his now dead tormentor – a bee with that most frightful of weapons, the sting!

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