"Shit!"
Ben thumped the steering wheel. Ten minutes and he still hadn't made it to the front of the queue. The bloke in the silver Volvo next to him frowned at him and shook his head, heavy jowls wobbling with disapproval. Ben snatched his eyes away. If he looked at the censorious old fart one second longer he was going to make headlines.
Sweat trickled down his forehead. He wiped a hand across his wet brow and glared at the useless air-conditioning control. The mercury passed forty long before midday and he was jammed in his brother's tiny sweat-box of a car in peak hour traffic. He could almost hear Kyle justifying the lack of air-conditioning: Open a window. It's natural, bro.
He hadn't wanted to flatten Kyle since they were kids but the idea was getting more appealing by the minute. He wouldn't be stuck running errands at all if Kyle could stay off the choof for five minutes.
He flicked the switch in the centre console and opened the front passenger window. The resulting cross-breeze drew a sigh of relief.
A flash of yellow to the right caught his eye. He turned his head to look then snapped it back as his fingers scrambled over the console. He pulled the first switch he found, holding his breath as the pane slowly separated him and the European wasp. He breathed again only when his window was completely closed. The thwarted wasp hovered, its shiny black eyes pinning him to his seat. It rose slowly up the glass, staring, until it was hidden from view.
Ben's eyes returned to the front. The lights must change soon, and this time he was going to make it. He gripped the warm steering wheel with both hands, ready for extreme acceleration.
A low, angry buzzing sounded at his left.
The passenger window!
He turned, his stomach shrinking to a hard knot.
It hung in the air like an obscenity.
He took a hand from the wheel and reached slowly for the console. A horn blasted behind him, making him jump. The wasp moved forward half an inch, its wings a blur.
Ben pulled the window switch. Nothing.
"Are you shitting me?"
He risked a glance at the console. Wrong switch. He found the right one and pulled up hard. The passenger window slid smoothly up the frame and slotted into its groove, deadening the cacophony of blaring horns, but the wasp was gone.
Ben looked back through the windshield to see the light change from green to orange. He stomped hard on the accelerator. The car leapt forward before he stomped equally hard on the brake. It was too late. The driver behind him leaned on the horn and offered him the finger.
"Sorry, mate," Ben muttered through gritted teeth.
He was trapped in a sauna at the most sadistic traffic lights in Australia and he couldn't even open the window. "Bloody wasps."
An ominous buzzing filled his ears.
"Shit!"
