No Sting In This Tale

(My mom is deathly afraid of anything that stings. She comes to pick me up from college at the end of my spring semester. While we’re driving toward the campus exit, I notice something troubling.)

Me: *trying to sound normal* “Hey, Mom?”

Mom: “Yes?”

Me: “If I ask you something, can you do it and not ask any questions?”

Mom: “Umm… what is it?”

Me: “Can you take this turn up here?”

(The turn goes away from the exit.)

Mom: “…sure.”

(She does. One of my friends happens to be up the road. Once we stop…)

Me: “Now, please get out of the car and shut the door after you.”

Mom: *giving me a weird look* “Okay…”

(I get out also and shut my door quickly.)

Me: “Do you know why I did that?”

Mom: “No… I figured it was because [Friend] was up here.”

Me: “No, I had no idea she was here. There’s a wasp in the back seat.”

Mom: *immediately begins screaming and backs away from the car*

Me: “Calm down! It’s still in there. It can’t get you. That’s why I had us stop like that.”

Mom: “IT’S STILL IN THERE?! HOW WILL YOU GET IT OUT?!”

Me: “Just stand back and I’ll open the trunk and it will fly out. It’s fine.”

(She stands VERY far back. It all goes according to plan. I say bye to my friend and we get back in the car.)

Me: “Now, aren’t you glad I did it that way?”

Mom: *sheepishly* “Yes.”

(Unfortunately I think that trick will only work once!)