THE WASPORCIST
Amy Laurens
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2011 Amy Laurens
Cover art copyright 2011 Amy Laurens
Cover image: Daemon via stock.xchng
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THE WASPORCIST
By Amy Laurens
Today.
My ears won’t stop ringing. It’s been a week now – ever since Halloween, actually. That party was insane. I prob’ly shouldn’t have let that random guy pour me a drink, even if he did compliment my outfit.
But anyway, the ringing. Every noise echoes in my left ear with a weird, computerized-voice-over effect. It’s especially bad in a crowd, since the echoes get so loud I can’t understand what anyone is saying.
I went to the doctor today. She says nothing’s wrong. I think she thinks I’m making it up.
Nov 8.
The ear ringing persists. It’s like the electricity in my brain is going mad, buzzing so loud I can hear it. Will my brain explode, I wonder?
Day after yesterday.
The buzzing is so loud now I have trouble hearing anything else. At least it means I can’t hear things echoing.
First day of the rest of forever, in which I never hear again.
Have determined that my brain has been replaced with a wasp, and it’s mad at being trapped in my pitiful skull, hence continuous buzzing. Must see an insectologist or whatever they’re called to get it out.
Nov 13.
It’s Friday. I should have known that was a bad start. Insectologist, who is apparently actually called an entomologist, tells me that wasps don’t live in people’s heads. I told him I’m always an exception. He told me to call a shrink.
Had a shrink. Didn’t work. Besides, I don’t need a shrink, I need a waspinator. I wonder what they’re called. Let me check.
Internet says exterminator. How dull. I vote in favour of waspinator. Let me go call one.
Nov 13, later.
Called. Booked. Didn’t tell the guy where the wasp was; just said ‘up there’ when he asked. Hope he comes prepared.
Another day.
Waspinator should be coming today, wootwoo. I am so SICK of this buzzing. I swear, the thing is driving me insane. Even Josh thinks I’m acting weird, and he’d know, he’s the King of Weird.
Oh, knock at the door. That’ll be the Waspinator. I’ll report back in a minute.
Later.
The guy looked at me like I was mad when I told him the wasp was in my head. “Too right it is,” he said. I think that was a little uncalled for. Still, I made him check, just to be sure. He shone a light in through my ear and said he couldn’t see anything that wasn’t supposed to be there.
Personally, I’m suspicious. I think if I looked in his ear I wouldn’t see anything at all. Ha. Idiot.
But seriously, what am I going to now? Who am I going to call?
…Who you gonna call? Ghost! Busters! Dun da-dun dun-dun.
HEY! That’s actually not a bad idea! What if it’s not a wasp? What if it’s, like, a demon, pretending to be a wasp?
That’s so awesome I’m practically bouncing in my seat. Who do you call for demons, again? Exercise-thingies. What are they called? Oh yeah, exorcists. Right.
Snigger. Wasporcists. That’s what I need: a wasporcist. But I doubt that’ll be in the phone book. I supposed I’ll just try for a generic exorcist first.
I’ll let you know how it goes, diary-m’dear.
Even later.
I love coincidence. Got this mad phone call earlier that Josh took. Sounded like it was one of those sales calls, you know the ones? They try to sell you a trip to Hawaii or insurance for your fish? Yeah. Those. But anyway, I was listening, and so I heard when Josh told the guy we didn’t need an exorcist.
I practically snatched the phone out of his hand, I was so excited. I mean, seriously? What are the odds?! So awesome. So anyway, exorcist – his name is Brad – agreed to come out. Says it sounds like it could be a demon. He gets situations like this all the time, he said. Hmm. I wonder if there’s, like, a conspiracy of demons, all invading people’s heads as wasps?
I wonder if Josh has heard buzzing lately?
I just ran out into the hall and asked him. He said he hasn’t. Bummer. No conspiracy after all. Oh well. I guess I’ll just wait for the exorcist.
Nov 20.
Exorcist is coming, exorcist is coming! I’m so excited. I hope he’s cute.
He should be here any minute now – oh, look, see? A knock at the door. I wonder if he knew I was writing about him coming, and that’s why he knocked now? I wonder if he’s been waiting at the door for, like, half an hour, just waiting for me to sit down and start writing so he could knock just as I wrote about –
I’m COMING, Josh. Sheesh. Let a person finish their sentence, will ya?
Urgh, better go before he comes in here and see this. No one’s supposed to know I’m keeping a journal. I’m only doing it ‘cause the shrink last year said I should. Not that I ever have anything interesting to write about.