“And what is your email address?” the banker asked, as he typed up the application.
“Oh, its...uh... [email protected],” Tim said, a little embarrassed, laughing uncomfortably.
“Haha, is there a story behind that one?” the man said.
“Just an old nickname, “ Tim answered.
He remembered it like it was yesterday. He arm was wrapped in a t-shirt his dad used as rags when he worked on his 1974 Oldsmobile 442. He said in his Spiderman underoos on the cold leather padded table of Doctor Renard.
Tim and his brother Jacob had been playing in the front hard, near the rock garden. The brightly colored perennials attracted many bumblebees, the target of the brothers’ play. Eached armed with an empty glass jar of mayonnaise, they stalked the bees, and carefully trapped them inside the jars. The trick was not letting them escape before they could screw the cap back on. Holes were punched in the lid to let the specimens breathe in captivity.
“Bees are okay,” their father told them, “but stay away from wasps and hornets.”
Jacob was better than Tim at catching bees. He was a year older, but also much more coordinated. At eight years old, Tim looked up to him, feeling like seven was so much more of a kid than eight. Jacob showed off his captured bee to his dad, even adorning the artificial habitat with a flower and branch for the bee to feel at home. As Jacob enjoyed his father’s attention, Tim made his way over to the back shed. He had seen some hornets there yesterday, the creatures having been building a nest under the rotting roof of the shed.
He knew he wasn’t supposed to go near them, but he had something to prove. He could catch a hornet, and he wasn’t afraid. When the bug stung him on the forearm, he yelled so loud his father and brother came running.
Soon he was on the table with his horribly swollen arm at the doctor’s office. Dr. Renard walked into the room, grinning through his graying beard.
“Oh boy, what have you got yourself into Timothy?” the jolly pediatrician said.
“I got stung by a hornet,” Tim said.
“How did that happen?”
“I was trying to catch it in a jar,” he said quietly.“Oh, well, it looks like he didn’t want to get captured! It’s ok. Let me have a look at it.”
The doctor unwrapped the rag and expose the sting. It was bright red at the point of puncture, and the swelling increased in the car ride. Tim tried to look away as the doctor poked in with his finger.
“It looks like it didn’t leave the stinger,” the doctor said, “that’s good. We won’t have to amputate.”
Tim wasn’t quite sure what amputate meant, but it didn’t sound good, so he was relieved. The doctor swabbed some cotton balls with alcohol and applied it to the afflicted area. It was cool on Tim’s skin, and he liked how it felt.
“Where do you live, Tim?”
“In Hampton. On Elm street,” Tim said.
“Oh, oh, that explains it. You live near the nuclear plant?”
“It’s not too close to us, maybe a mile away,” Tim wasn’t sure what this had to do with his hornet sting.
“I see you are a fan of Spider-man,” the doctor said, pointing at the Underoos. Tim asked for them for his birthday after seeing them on a TV commercial during the Super-Friends program. Spider-man was by far his favorite superhero.
“Well, do you know how Spider-man received his powers?” the doctor was smiling brightly through his beard.
“Um...a radioactive spider bite?”
“Indeed! A radioactive spider bite. Now, I cannot say for sure, but from the way the sting has affected your skin, and see that redness over there,” the doctor pointed, “I think you may have been stung by a radioactive hornet.”
Cool, thought Tim.
“I’m going to give you some anti-robotics, to make sure the swelling goes down.”
Tim was pretty sure it was anti-biotics, but anti-robotics sounded much more impressive.
“Ok. Will I get super-powers?”
“Oh, one can never tell with these things. You’ll have to look for the signs. Hornets have incredible hearing, they are very strong for their size. These are things you can probably expect. Much more powerful than kids of your age. You probably won’t grow wings, probably less than a one percent chance. And God forbid you get a stinger. That will make it difficult to wear pants,” the doctor kept a very straight face. Tim was almost sure he must be kidding. But what if he wasn’t?
The doctor put a gauze pad over the puncture wound, and some of the swollen area. Tim went home with his dad and brother, and every day, looked for signs of his impending super-powers.
“Yeah, its just an old nickname,” Tim said to the banker.
“Well, it’s pretty cool, if you ask me.”
Yeah, it is pretty cool.
“Oh, its...uh... [email protected],” Tim said, a little embarrassed, laughing uncomfortably.
“Haha, is there a story behind that one?” the man said.
“Just an old nickname, “ Tim answered.
He remembered it like it was yesterday. He arm was wrapped in a t-shirt his dad used as rags when he worked on his 1974 Oldsmobile 442. He said in his Spiderman underoos on the cold leather padded table of Doctor Renard.
Tim and his brother Jacob had been playing in the front hard, near the rock garden. The brightly colored perennials attracted many bumblebees, the target of the brothers’ play. Eached armed with an empty glass jar of mayonnaise, they stalked the bees, and carefully trapped them inside the jars. The trick was not letting them escape before they could screw the cap back on. Holes were punched in the lid to let the specimens breathe in captivity.
“Bees are okay,” their father told them, “but stay away from wasps and hornets.”
Jacob was better than Tim at catching bees. He was a year older, but also much more coordinated. At eight years old, Tim looked up to him, feeling like seven was so much more of a kid than eight. Jacob showed off his captured bee to his dad, even adorning the artificial habitat with a flower and branch for the bee to feel at home. As Jacob enjoyed his father’s attention, Tim made his way over to the back shed. He had seen some hornets there yesterday, the creatures having been building a nest under the rotting roof of the shed.
He knew he wasn’t supposed to go near them, but he had something to prove. He could catch a hornet, and he wasn’t afraid. When the bug stung him on the forearm, he yelled so loud his father and brother came running.
Soon he was on the table with his horribly swollen arm at the doctor’s office. Dr. Renard walked into the room, grinning through his graying beard.
“Oh boy, what have you got yourself into Timothy?” the jolly pediatrician said.
“I got stung by a hornet,” Tim said.
“How did that happen?”
“I was trying to catch it in a jar,” he said quietly.“Oh, well, it looks like he didn’t want to get captured! It’s ok. Let me have a look at it.”
The doctor unwrapped the rag and expose the sting. It was bright red at the point of puncture, and the swelling increased in the car ride. Tim tried to look away as the doctor poked in with his finger.
“It looks like it didn’t leave the stinger,” the doctor said, “that’s good. We won’t have to amputate.”
Tim wasn’t quite sure what amputate meant, but it didn’t sound good, so he was relieved. The doctor swabbed some cotton balls with alcohol and applied it to the afflicted area. It was cool on Tim’s skin, and he liked how it felt.
“Where do you live, Tim?”
“In Hampton. On Elm street,” Tim said.
“Oh, oh, that explains it. You live near the nuclear plant?”
“It’s not too close to us, maybe a mile away,” Tim wasn’t sure what this had to do with his hornet sting.
“I see you are a fan of Spider-man,” the doctor said, pointing at the Underoos. Tim asked for them for his birthday after seeing them on a TV commercial during the Super-Friends program. Spider-man was by far his favorite superhero.
“Well, do you know how Spider-man received his powers?” the doctor was smiling brightly through his beard.
“Um...a radioactive spider bite?”
“Indeed! A radioactive spider bite. Now, I cannot say for sure, but from the way the sting has affected your skin, and see that redness over there,” the doctor pointed, “I think you may have been stung by a radioactive hornet.”
Cool, thought Tim.
“I’m going to give you some anti-robotics, to make sure the swelling goes down.”
Tim was pretty sure it was anti-biotics, but anti-robotics sounded much more impressive.
“Ok. Will I get super-powers?”
“Oh, one can never tell with these things. You’ll have to look for the signs. Hornets have incredible hearing, they are very strong for their size. These are things you can probably expect. Much more powerful than kids of your age. You probably won’t grow wings, probably less than a one percent chance. And God forbid you get a stinger. That will make it difficult to wear pants,” the doctor kept a very straight face. Tim was almost sure he must be kidding. But what if he wasn’t?
The doctor put a gauze pad over the puncture wound, and some of the swollen area. Tim went home with his dad and brother, and every day, looked for signs of his impending super-powers.
“Yeah, its just an old nickname,” Tim said to the banker.
“Well, it’s pretty cool, if you ask me.”
Yeah, it is pretty cool.