David Meigs is a novelist with a background in youth outreach, specializing in ministry to at-risk youth and their families. Though his writing is enjoyed by all ages, his novels provide a unique, life-changing quality, critical for the youth of today. David and his family lives in Seabeck, Washington.

What brightens a gloomy day better than a little humor? But let’s face it, not everyone can write humor. It requires a keen sense of timing, imagination, and, above all, a sense of humor. Moreover, what one person finds funny, might cause someone else to groan in agony. Some like slapstick, and others enjoy dry wit. What works for one person simply does not work for another.

This is particularly true in my own family. Every now and then, my boys and I enjoy watching the Three Stooges. We laugh until it hurts. We have even been known to imitate Larry, Moe, and Curly/Joe’s antics. But it never fails that watching even a few seconds of the stooges is enough to send my darling wife to the opposite end of the house. On the other hand, Darla loves to watch old-time musicals (someone shoot me, please), and she can often be heard giggling with all her heart. Heaven help us all if her sisters are watching the movie with her. The boys and I have to leave home.

I don’t know about you, but I love putting my characters into all kinds of ridiculous situations, hoping to earn a grin or two from my readers. Usually, I set them up over the span of several chapters so the reader can feel the tension building, and when the trap is finally sprung, it makes the payoff so much more rewarding.

Many writers may draw on those extremely embarrassing true-life experiences that happen to us all. I don’t know about you, but these kinds of events seem to be the story of my life. And often as not, the true-life craziness is stranger than anything I could ever make up. Who says that God doesn’t have a sense of humor?

Just for fun, I’d like to share one of those true-life experiences. I hope it inspires you in some way as you write your next novel, or at least gives you a laugh at my expense. My true story happened several years ago on a sunny Tuesday afternoon. I had to make a quick trip to town to get supplies for the youth meeting later that night. Luckily for me, I live in a rural area, so it happened on a country road without too many folks to see.

As I was driving to town, a giant hornet flew in my window, zipped past my face a couple of times, and ended up buzzing against the passenger-side window. Unfortunately, that old van did not have electric windows. I looked up ahead. I was in a 25 mph zone and no cars were coming. As quick as I could, I reached across to the passenger-side window and hurriedly cranked it down with my fingertips. I swatted at the hornet, trying to shoo it out the window, but the hornet wasn’t about to be budged.

When I looked up I realized I was over the centerline, and a wide-eyed lady in a small car was coming straight at me from the opposite direction. I quickly pulled back into my own lane, trying

hard to avoid the poor lady’s flabbergasted expression. As soon as she passed, I looked over and was relieved to see that the hornet was no longer there. Having not learned a thing, I reached across the car and quickly rolled the window up.

But before I’d gone very far, the hornet buzzed by my left ear, and landed on the window next to me. I rolled it down as fast as I could, but once again, the little beast refused to go. Like before, I looked up to see that I was edging over the centerline. I cranked on the wheel, and glanced around for the little monster.

I did not see the little critter anywhere. Feeling fairly certain that it must have flown away, I turned my thoughts on the night’s youth meeting.

That’s when it happened.

I couldn’t see the hornet anywhere, but I could definitely feel it. As anyone who has ever hired a plumber will tell you, there is a natural path down the backside of a man’s pants for a bee to travel. And it did.

“Yelp!” It stung me on the left cheek. “Help me, Jesus!” It struck again (hornets can sting multiple times). As fast as I could, I pulled the van over, parked, and ran around to the other side of the road. I started to unhitch my pants until I noticed a nearby house. The windows were dark, but it looked as if a small face might be watching from within. I yanked up my pants and hurried back into the van. The little fiend stung me again. Even worse, it was headed south.

I jumped back inside and raced up the road. A quarter-mile farther I found an unpopulated spot, pulled over, and positioned the van so I could finally be well hidden from all onlookers. Then the little devil stung me again and again. In a frantic rush, I dropped my pants and then peeled off my Fruit-of-the-Looms, turning them inside out. The hornet flew off in an angry huff. I don’t think he liked the experience any more than I did. Serves him right—the little demon.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed my little story. I’ll spare you bee puns for now. Maybe someday I’ll tell you about the bear that met me outside my front door, or the cute little family of skunks. Until next month, don’t forget to inject a little humor into the stories you write.