Once upon a time, long ago and far away, there was a Wasp. And the Wasp was very angry. The wasp was very angry because the computer network had crashed, and she couldn't finish her online game. And life was impoverished without such interactions.

So, the wasp decided that since she couldn't trounce her virtual opponents spread all around the world like sprinkled gumdrops, she would sting a Caterpillar.

Now, Wasps sting Caterpillars. They do this because it is good for Wasps, not because it is good for Caterpillars, except as a sort of natural-selection mechanism which improves their breed. But, who cares about Caterpillars, except other Caterpillars? And Caterpillars aren't exactly the caring sort. Ask one and you'll see that I'm right. You WILL!

So! Our Wasp whom we shall call Wanda (because that's the sort of Wasp she was) set out to find a Caterpillar to sting. She flew over the valleys and the hills and the rivers. She flew over the suburbs and the airports and the industrial zones, which was a waste, because there weren't many caterpillars in industrial zones, except the diesel sort.

Back to the hills and rivers, and finally, there she saw: a Caterpillar. This Caterpillar was sitting on a Tomato plant leaf.

There are many Caterpillars who sit on such leafs: Tomato plants, and Tobacco plants, and Petunias, and Potatoes, and Eggplant leaves. I have known many such Caterpillars. Yes, I have known many such caterpillars, and I have generally fed them to Ants. But I digress.

So! Wanda the Wasp buzzed down out of the clouds towards the Caterpillar, who we shall call Carl because that's the sort of Caterpillar that *HE* was. And as she neared she sang sweetly in a voice like pecan syrup, "Oh Caterpillar! Prepare to meet thy doom!"

Carl Caterpillar did not respond verbally, because Caterpillars are not exactly the brainiest of beasts, and they don't have much in the way of vocal cords anyway, being mainly concerned with devouring plant matter, while humming to each other telepathically.

So! Wanda dropped from the sky, and hovered over Carl, and extended her ovipositor, and STRUCK him! And stung him! And stuffed an egg into him. And then she flew away, for she was that kind of Wasp. Strike and run. Look for fresh opportunities.

Carl hardly knew that anything had happened. He was busy devouring his hybrid Tomato leaf, as stoned as a drunken Snake, but fuzzier, if about the same temperature.

Now, Tomatoes belong to an interesting plant family, the Solanaceae, which includes Deadly Nightshade and Belladonna and Wolfbane and Hensbane and Tobacco and all sorts of plants full of ALKALOIDS, powerful chemicals that tend to disrupt nervous systems.

Wanda the Wasp had not eaten any of Carl the Caterpillar, so she did not absorb any of these alkaloids. Carl had eaten nothing BUT these alkaloids all his life, and was absolutely STUFFED with them. The new Wasp egg that was within him was immune to them, and thus grew at its own pace. "Chomp chomp chomp, grow grow grow," went the egg.

Carl Caterpillar, however, felt this as a growing ecstasy, something within him that was expanding in ways he could not understand, but could only GLORY in. As such he was much like a worshipper at the shrine of an unknown god, GLORYING in the divine radiance that came thereof. Carl the Caterpillar's joy was expanding as his substance was diminishing.

All this ecstasy of course, was just an alkaloid-induced fantasy. Eventually the egg hatched and grew and transformed, and the larva within devoured Carl, and ate his little brain, and metamorphosed into another Wasp, that went out in search of Caterpillars.

And this is how the cycle of life rolls on. You can sting, or you can be stung. You can devour, or you can be devoured. You can be the Wasp, or you can be the Caterpillar. What happens far away and long ago, happens here and now too. When you feel the sting, all you can do is sing. La la la. La. Urg.