； drinking beer on
the porch and dropping the empty Black Label cans into his wife's plastic
floorbucket while his two older sons flanked him and little Jacky sat on the
steps at his feet； playing with his Bolo Bouncer and singing monotonously over
and over： 〃Your cheating heart 。。。 will make you weep 。。。 your cheating
heart 。。。 is gonna tell on you。〃
At quarter of six； just before supper； Daddy had gone out to the apple tree
with his sons grouped carefully behind him。 In one hand he had a garden hoe。 He
knocked the leaves apart； leaving little clots spread around to smolder and die。
Then he reached the hoe handle up； weaving and blinking； and after two or three
tries he knocked the nest to the ground。
The boys fled for the safety of the porch； but Daddy only stood over the nest；
swaying and blinking down at it。 Jacky crept back to see。 A few wasps were
crawling sluggishly over the paper terrain of their property； but they were not
trying to fly。 From the inside of the nest； the black and alien place； came a
never…to…be…forgotten sound： a low； somnolent buzz； like the sound of high…
tension wires。
〃Why don't they try to sting you； Daddy？〃 he had asked。
〃The smoke makes em drunk； Jacky。 Go get my gascan。〃
He ran to fetch it。 Daddy doused the nest with amber gasoline。
〃Now step away； Jacky； unless you want to lose your eyebrows。〃
He had stepped away。 From somewhere in the voluminous folds of his white
overblouse； Daddy had produced a wooden kitchen match。 He lit it with his
thumbnail and flung it onto the nest。 There had been a white…orange explosion；
almost soundless in its ferocity。 Daddy had stepped away