Angel Vs. the Gaint Wasp of the Yukon Territory
A lot of people don't know that I am a figure in American folklore. One of my more recnt adventures involves a trip I took to Alaksa and a confrontation with a rather ill tempered honey bee.
Shortly after the United States purchased Alaska from the Soviet Union, the U.S. Congress commissioned an expedition to the new American north for a geological survey. Alaska was rich in oil and defining the logistics for piping that crude back to the continental United States was of prime importance.
One man and one man alone was chosen for his proven ability to inspire the men under his command; to lead this bold push into the arctic. That man was the famous actor, Kirk Douglass. But he wasn't available due to a rigorous movie schedule so it came to the next best man for the job. Unfortunately, it turns out he had died in a tragic coconut shaving incident a few years before hand. It went that way, one great leader and wilderness expert after another until the only man under the age of 80 and crazy enough to take the job was ... Me.
That's right I led the expedition to build the Alaskan pipeline, or more accurately to determine if such an engineering marvel was going to be possible.
During our trip to the great Alaskan expanse, the US army core of engineers and I faced many hardships. Supplies ran low. There was little food and the land itself was harsh and unforgiving. No food could be gathered from the endless fields of snow and ice. We found ourselves in a compromised position, we lacked sufficient provisions to cross the jagged ridge of mountains on our quest to the oil rich region of our nations newest state.
Luckily, There in the Yukon territory was an Eskimo village within three days of our mountain crossing. US command authorized us to trade with the indigenous people as we deemed necessary to ensure the successful completion of our mission. We could offer the Eskimo people any concession payable in the near future in return for the supplies immediately necessary to complete our task on schedule.
The locals were glad of the arrangement. They were skilled hunters and trappers, but lacked access to tools, medicines, and technology that could benefit their tribe. The Eskimo chief (who's name I cannot to this day pronounce) and I met to discuss the details of our trade. He was eager to procure for his people the kind of equipment only the US military could supply. These tools could make life in his harsh landscape easier for all of his people. Suspiciously, he seemed reluctant to promise timely delivery of the goods we so desperately needed.
I was in command of a hundred fifty men and would not, could not accept failure. Not only would our mission end in complete failure, but we had in fact crossed a point of no return. We had insufficient supplies to return to our encampment. I pressed the chief for answers. The chief was proud man, Larger than life to the people of his village.
(as a sidenote, he was a political genius. The soviets had endangered the delicate arctic ecosystem with thoughtless development and reckless use of military machinery. Entire species of animals his people depended on teetered near the brink of extinction. Knowing that nobody really cared about life in his part of the world, the Eskimo chief created a myth of baby seals being clubbed to death to attract the attention of environmental and animal rights groups.)
The chief confided in me, that the largest portion of his people's supplies were beyond their reach. It seems that their entire reserve of food for the winter months had been set upon by a giant, monstrous wasp. No doubt a mutation resulting from years of uncontrolled nuclear testing by soviet scientists. There was indeed ample food for his village and my troops but no one in the village was a match for the unnatural creature.
With little to be done, and the fate of both our peoples on the line, I vowed to dispatch the creature. I had agreed out of respect for the Eskimo people to bring no weapons into the settlement. There was no time to return to our convoy to re-arm myself, I would have to fight the abomination with my bare hands.
I never could have been prepared for what was waiting for me at the entrance to the ice cave that served as the Eskimo larder. I mean, come on... how big can a wasp possibly get?
It's not often in my life i wish i hadn't asked a rhetorical question. I do wish I hadn't seen the answer. The beast must have weighed 176 pounds. Including the sinister spindle-like legs that dangled beneath the wicked insect, it must have been 18 feet tall. It's shimmering exo-skeleton was like black and gold striped tank armor. The buzzing of its wings caused a wave of dizziness and nausea so intense a man could hardly keep to his feet. I could feel my teeth vibrate every time the horror took to the air. It had compound eyes the size of a basketball looking in every direction, and the stinger ... it carried a sting that looked like a steel pike. I knew that to be impaled by that radioactive dagger was certain death, but I also knew what had to be done.
When the giant wasp settled to earth a short distance from the frozen snow drift ridge my Eskimo guides and I were using as cover, I made my move. I jumped on the back of the monster only to be thrown to the ground by the intensity of it's rapid wing flutter. I rolled across the snow to avoid the deadly stinger. Much to my horror, I saw spots of bright crimson blood in the snow. the beast was covered in hairs that were like 12 penny nails. It had drawn first blood and could smell my fear.
I collected myself and waited for the coming assault. When the giant honey monger made a pass I grabbed at it's legs and threw myself to the ground as hard as i could. I succeeded at pulling the beast to the snow. Now, with its wings wet and too heavy to fly, I knew I had a chance. As it thrust at me with its terrible sting, I jabbed with my left and then with my right fist to its sensitive eyes. The bug was disoriented but still fast. It took every bit of amateur boxing footwork I had to stay out of the path of it's iron venom syringe.
That's when the idea hit me. If I could get the nightmarish thing to sting hard into the frozen ground, it would loose its sting and quickly perish. I ran full steam at the monster's thorax and ignoring the pain of it's sharp, spike hairs, jumped between the many pairs of bamboo segmented legs. Infuriated the creature stung hard and fast but struck only the ground as I was clinging tenaciously underneath its belly. It took anly a few moments until my brilliant plan paid off. I could hear the Eskimos cheer when the stinger stuck deep in the ice pack and ripped from the horrific hornet's body. That's all it took to restore the confidence of the Eskimo hunters. Seeing their foe weakened and weaponless, they rushed to my aid. It wasn't long after that the beast was finally vanquished.
Though i was badly battered from the fight and bloodied from the many sharp nail like hairs protruding from the beast's underside, I stood over my fallen enemy and victoriously pulled the wings right off its still heaving body.
I fell exhausted in the snow after that last gesture but I could hear the villagers clamoring about the battle. I heard some of them say something about malamutes. I do believe they fed that abnormally large and aggressive bee to their dogs.
I spent a few days recovering from my injuries at the village in the company of some extremely pleasing Eskimo girls while the Army engineers proceeded with fresh supplies across the mountain ridge. I rejoined them with some help from my new Northern friends. When we parted ways, the chief thanked me for saving their village from the giant insect. He gave me one of the wings I had torn from it. The other had been chewed to pieces by some eager sled dogs. To this day, i keep that wing over my mantle where many people mistake it for an oriental fan. In the years following my adventure, the Alaskan pipeline was in fact successfully completed and America reaped the benifit of a rich new fuel reserve.
No need to thank me, You are all quite welcome.
from:
The DollCase Diaries
A lot of people don't know that I am a figure in American folklore. One of my more recnt adventures involves a trip I took to Alaksa and a confrontation with a rather ill tempered honey bee.
Shortly after the United States purchased Alaska from the Soviet Union, the U.S. Congress commissioned an expedition to the new American north for a geological survey. Alaska was rich in oil and defining the logistics for piping that crude back to the continental United States was of prime importance.
One man and one man alone was chosen for his proven ability to inspire the men under his command; to lead this bold push into the arctic. That man was the famous actor, Kirk Douglass. But he wasn't available due to a rigorous movie schedule so it came to the next best man for the job. Unfortunately, it turns out he had died in a tragic coconut shaving incident a few years before hand. It went that way, one great leader and wilderness expert after another until the only man under the age of 80 and crazy enough to take the job was ... Me.
That's right I led the expedition to build the Alaskan pipeline, or more accurately to determine if such an engineering marvel was going to be possible.
During our trip to the great Alaskan expanse, the US army core of engineers and I faced many hardships. Supplies ran low. There was little food and the land itself was harsh and unforgiving. No food could be gathered from the endless fields of snow and ice. We found ourselves in a compromised position, we lacked sufficient provisions to cross the jagged ridge of mountains on our quest to the oil rich region of our nations newest state.
Luckily, There in the Yukon territory was an Eskimo village within three days of our mountain crossing. US command authorized us to trade with the indigenous people as we deemed necessary to ensure the successful completion of our mission. We could offer the Eskimo people any concession payable in the near future in return for the supplies immediately necessary to complete our task on schedule.
The locals were glad of the arrangement. They were skilled hunters and trappers, but lacked access to tools, medicines, and technology that could benefit their tribe. The Eskimo chief (who's name I cannot to this day pronounce) and I met to discuss the details of our trade. He was eager to procure for his people the kind of equipment only the US military could supply. These tools could make life in his harsh landscape easier for all of his people. Suspiciously, he seemed reluctant to promise timely delivery of the goods we so desperately needed.
I was in command of a hundred fifty men and would not, could not accept failure. Not only would our mission end in complete failure, but we had in fact crossed a point of no return. We had insufficient supplies to return to our encampment. I pressed the chief for answers. The chief was proud man, Larger than life to the people of his village.
(as a sidenote, he was a political genius. The soviets had endangered the delicate arctic ecosystem with thoughtless development and reckless use of military machinery. Entire species of animals his people depended on teetered near the brink of extinction. Knowing that nobody really cared about life in his part of the world, the Eskimo chief created a myth of baby seals being clubbed to death to attract the attention of environmental and animal rights groups.)
The chief confided in me, that the largest portion of his people's supplies were beyond their reach. It seems that their entire reserve of food for the winter months had been set upon by a giant, monstrous wasp. No doubt a mutation resulting from years of uncontrolled nuclear testing by soviet scientists. There was indeed ample food for his village and my troops but no one in the village was a match for the unnatural creature.
With little to be done, and the fate of both our peoples on the line, I vowed to dispatch the creature. I had agreed out of respect for the Eskimo people to bring no weapons into the settlement. There was no time to return to our convoy to re-arm myself, I would have to fight the abomination with my bare hands.
I never could have been prepared for what was waiting for me at the entrance to the ice cave that served as the Eskimo larder. I mean, come on... how big can a wasp possibly get?
It's not often in my life i wish i hadn't asked a rhetorical question. I do wish I hadn't seen the answer. The beast must have weighed 176 pounds. Including the sinister spindle-like legs that dangled beneath the wicked insect, it must have been 18 feet tall. It's shimmering exo-skeleton was like black and gold striped tank armor. The buzzing of its wings caused a wave of dizziness and nausea so intense a man could hardly keep to his feet. I could feel my teeth vibrate every time the horror took to the air. It had compound eyes the size of a basketball looking in every direction, and the stinger ... it carried a sting that looked like a steel pike. I knew that to be impaled by that radioactive dagger was certain death, but I also knew what had to be done.
When the giant wasp settled to earth a short distance from the frozen snow drift ridge my Eskimo guides and I were using as cover, I made my move. I jumped on the back of the monster only to be thrown to the ground by the intensity of it's rapid wing flutter. I rolled across the snow to avoid the deadly stinger. Much to my horror, I saw spots of bright crimson blood in the snow. the beast was covered in hairs that were like 12 penny nails. It had drawn first blood and could smell my fear.
I collected myself and waited for the coming assault. When the giant honey monger made a pass I grabbed at it's legs and threw myself to the ground as hard as i could. I succeeded at pulling the beast to the snow. Now, with its wings wet and too heavy to fly, I knew I had a chance. As it thrust at me with its terrible sting, I jabbed with my left and then with my right fist to its sensitive eyes. The bug was disoriented but still fast. It took every bit of amateur boxing footwork I had to stay out of the path of it's iron venom syringe.
That's when the idea hit me. If I could get the nightmarish thing to sting hard into the frozen ground, it would loose its sting and quickly perish. I ran full steam at the monster's thorax and ignoring the pain of it's sharp, spike hairs, jumped between the many pairs of bamboo segmented legs. Infuriated the creature stung hard and fast but struck only the ground as I was clinging tenaciously underneath its belly. It took anly a few moments until my brilliant plan paid off. I could hear the Eskimos cheer when the stinger stuck deep in the ice pack and ripped from the horrific hornet's body. That's all it took to restore the confidence of the Eskimo hunters. Seeing their foe weakened and weaponless, they rushed to my aid. It wasn't long after that the beast was finally vanquished.
Though i was badly battered from the fight and bloodied from the many sharp nail like hairs protruding from the beast's underside, I stood over my fallen enemy and victoriously pulled the wings right off its still heaving body.
I fell exhausted in the snow after that last gesture but I could hear the villagers clamoring about the battle. I heard some of them say something about malamutes. I do believe they fed that abnormally large and aggressive bee to their dogs.
I spent a few days recovering from my injuries at the village in the company of some extremely pleasing Eskimo girls while the Army engineers proceeded with fresh supplies across the mountain ridge. I rejoined them with some help from my new Northern friends. When we parted ways, the chief thanked me for saving their village from the giant insect. He gave me one of the wings I had torn from it. The other had been chewed to pieces by some eager sled dogs. To this day, i keep that wing over my mantle where many people mistake it for an oriental fan. In the years following my adventure, the Alaskan pipeline was in fact successfully completed and America reaped the benifit of a rich new fuel reserve.
No need to thank me, You are all quite welcome.
from:
The DollCase Diaries