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Henry the Hornet climbed up to the edge of the window frame, right smack in front of me, and looked straight at me, as if trying to decide whether to fly to freedom or go ahead and sting me to death out of pure spite for having been held prisoner in my car for the past 24 hours.
 
It would have been a more interesting story if Henry stung you ... or you stung Henry ... or at least Henry hit you with a basketball ... like a bad pass.
 

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