I don't own this. DISCLAIMER DISCLAIMER!

And I know people are going to hate me because I used this character, but I DON'T CARE! This is cute...

(You: Ahem, Bookworm, but don't you realize the title is 'annoy a nest of wasps', when it should be 'disturb a nest'?
Me: Ugh... I realize this. The title couldn't take the long amount of characters, I'm sorry.)

Starring Octavian

Little seven-year-old Octavian got out of bed and wandered over to the bathroom next door, sleepy-eyed. He sat down on the toilet seat and brushed his teeth lazily, rubbing his eyes tiredly and yawning. He walked into his fuzzy blue slippers and marched downstairs, where his mother and father were sharing lazy chat over a cup of coffee early Saturday morning. His father was still in pyjamas.

"Good morning, champ," he greeted his son as he walked into the kitchen, yawning. "How'd you sleep?"

"Tired," Octavian muttered absently, sitting down in his mother's lap. His father worked as a physics teacher at the New Rome University while his mother had a job as a librarian every Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. His father's grandfather was Apollo, which made Octavian a third generation demigod. His mother was a normal mortal citizen that had fallen in love with him. (Occasionally she'd come home one day, mention she had a chat with the butcher, be told the butcher was a Cyclops, and curse that darn Mist.)

"Oh, you poor baby," his mother said, playing with her son's blond hair. She kissed his cheek. "You want some breakfast?"

"Yes, please," he said, and was seated on another chair as his mother prepared some scrambled eggs.

"You know, Octopus," said his father, referring to Octavian by his pet name, "your mother and I have been talking about how these past few weeks we've stayed in and played it easy during the weekends."

Octavian yawned.

"…And so we decided we're talking a vacation," his mother finished, sprinkling some bacon on her son's eggs. "Not a big one, but just for the day. We're driving over to that park you really like to have a picnic." She served the eggs beside some sliced apple cubes and orange juice, playfully pressing his nose like a button.

"But it's like… noon," Octavian said, lazily placing a strip of apple in his mouth and munching on it softly. "Can we stay in for a few more… days?"

"What has made you so tired?" his mother asked. She frowned. "Octavian, did you stay up last night reading up on that book you like?"

Octavian yawned. "Maybe," he replied somewhere in between.

She sighed, resting her elbows on the rim of the back of her chair. "Thoughts?" she asked her husband.

"Hey, if Octopus here has finally found something he likes, then he should stick to it," he decided, sipping from his coffee. "Even if it is some crazy obsession with a book. What is it? Sybilline?"

"Yes, Dad," Octavian replied. "It's very interesting, and when I grow up I want to be Camp Jupiter's future seer guy. I forgot his actual title… too lazy to remember…" He drooped his head sideways onto his shoulder and snored.

His mother rolled her eyes good-naturally. "You're too lazy to do anything nowadays," she told him. "Now eat up. You're helping me pack the sandwiches."

-o-O-o-

When they finally reached the park, Octavian had woken up for the most part. He cheered and headed straight for the hills that seemed to endlessly roll along, and he sometimes like to run up and down them for thrills. Then after a few minutes he'd reach a tree and he'd climb to the top, sit there for a while and pretend he was king of the world, then climb down again and keep running.

And that was what he did that day. The second he was out of that car he was running like his life depended on it. The spring had brought pretty flowers to the hills, and the grass grew wild and untamed. He caught sight of bees fluttering around, gathering pollen to make their honey. For a while he had stopped to observe one, how it flew from flower to flower and then back to its hive.

There were also butterflies and birds to be seen. His mother followed him around for a while, snapping pictures of him making goofy faces and performing handstands and all that awesome nonsense.

Then they had lunch, and Octavian had to watch out for ants. They crawled all over the picnic blanket, and the cake for dessert had become inedible after a wasp flew onto it.

"I'll get it!" Octavian decided, chasing after it. It led him over several hills, and more than once he lost sight of it. The wasp flew over to a cluster of trees, where it hid among the branches. The little boy frowned.

"You're not getting away!" he shouted at it, and groped at the wild grass until he found a rock. He then took careful aim and threw it where he last saw the wasp.

"Ha!" he yelled victoriously, even though he had no idea if he actually hit his target. "I killed you! Killed you, killed you!"

Something snapped and fell out of the tree, rolling to Octavian's feet. It was a wasp's nest. Somehow he had hit it and dislodged it from the tree, angering several insects.

But he didn't realize this. He kicked the nest, unsure of what it was, but deciding it was the Universe's gift to him for murdering that wasp. Eventually he got tired of playing soccer with it when it snapped in half, and that was where most of his problems started.

For one, the wasps didn't take having their home destroyed by a seven-year-old well. They rose up in an angry swarm, determined to sting the enemy into oblivion. Also, Octavian wasn't a fast runner.

Two minutes later Octavian came to his parents covered in several wasp stings, crying his miserable seven-year-old heart out. He was rushed home right away, where his mother pulled out the stingers and applied ointment to his wounds. The family didn't have another picnic for a long time.

This is a cute chapter, admit it.

Reviews are highly appreciated. (And, guess what, we just got a hundred! YAY!)