I like wasps. Maybe I like them because they are incredibly, foolishly, suicidally brave.
They will take on anything at all; wolverines on steroids.
So I never kill wasps.
Except, a year or so ago, when I had to dig out an old tree stump, in preparation for building a carport.
A wasp warned me off, as I dug. It became more and more threatening, the more I dug and dug.
But I needed that stump gone, and so I ignored the wasp and carried on.
Until it became so insistent that I retired, hurrying across the lawn, while it relentlessly followed me.
The fool thing became stuck inside my glove, between glove and wrist, whereupon it stung me.
Well. When I get hurt, I get angry, and man, that hurt!
Before I knew I'd done it, the wasp was dead...
I've felt bad, ever since, for killing that wasp. It was an expert in bushido, and I regretted having had to off it.
Bad for my karma, too, I imagined, and golly, what price would I have to pay for that?
And suddenly I realized:
If there is such a thing as karma, then surely it doesn't just apply to humans.
It applies to every living thing. Wasps too.
No matter how well-armed one is, and however justified in one's actions, there are consequences to one's actions.
Take on something thousands of times your size, and those consequences are likely to be unpleasant.
Perhaps, as my wife reminded me, that wasp was the reincarnation of an especially ornery human.
Some characters just never learn.