MARAUDING MOSQUITOES

Kamikaze Mosquito

          I awoke this morning, not to the clap of thunder nor the crack of dawn but to the scream of a mosquito, like a Japanese kamikaze pilot dive bombing towards my face. When it landed lightly on the tip of my nose, it sneered at me and said, "I dare you to swat me! Go on, I dare you!" 

          Of course, having been rudely awakened, my senses not yet untangled from it's spiderweb of tentacles, and becoming cross-eyed watching the menacing mosquito about to probe my nasal protuberance with its proboscis, I let fly with my mighty right hand! Hardly a slight swat, myriad of stars swirling in tandem with my stinging nose from the result of my foolish blow, I was now fully awake. 

         Being the size of the gigantic ape, King Kong, in comparison to that pesky squeeter, I was on a mission. Holding out my left arm like a long landing strip, instead of tarmac, made of flesh and blood, I waited like a patient sniper, my sight set and my aim true. While I waited and I waited and I waited until the weight of my arm felt like lead, that minuscule winged insect hovered like a drunken helicopter pilot, one eye out for a landing and the other, eye to eye with me. However, like any tasty buffet, my arm laid out like a  juicy rare T-bone steak, the mosquito overwhelmed with the meal set before it, couldn't resist temptation. Wrapping a bib around its skinny throat while licking its chops, and after maneuvering and re-maneuvering several times, realizing the dangers in setting down, the pesky pest finally alit on my hairy left arm. As it was saying Grace, thanking the Great Skeeter in the sky for what it was about to devour or perhaps imbibe, I waited with the patience of Job, my right hand cocked and ready for the colossal swat to be delivered. Hunkering down, its spindly long legs spread out, I waited until its pointy stinger containing six mouths (you heard right - six mouths) speared my flesh. Then, as it began siphoning out my red blood, confident it had eluded danger, I slowly brought my slaying hand into position, the impact of the swat like a crack of thunder flattening that tiny insect into oblivion! Besides the broken wreckage of that crumpled insect, a splotch of red blood, my blood could be seen. Proud of my achievement, about to be rewarded a Purple Heart for being wounded under fire, I began to hear that alarming Eeeeee sound, not just one but many. The only trouble with mosquitoes is that they seldom fly solo and soon swarms of them, I'm thinking on a quest of vengeance, sent me cowering beneath the covers. 

          The other day, desperately having to take a leak, (when I have to go - I have to go) upstairs to the bathroom is a long distance for a shuffling old man. Unable to get there on time, rather than wetting my pants, I stepped out the backdoor, unzipped my fly and let fly. Well...no sooner had the yellow piss hit the grass, the air turned grey with mosquitoes. Swatting mosquitoes and holding on to my ding-dong at the same time, trying not to spray all over my slippers was more than a little unnerving but believe it or not, I stayed dry and didn't get stung.

          Although here at the base of Green Mountain in New Brunswick, we have been invaded by hordes of mosquitoes, the most I've ever seen was while I was in the northern hemisphere, the arctic. Wearing mosquito netting over my head and my entire body clothed, like a knight wearing armor for protection, I proceeded along the shoreline, each footstep flushing up clouds of mosquitoes. Thousands upon thousands of them were attached to me as if they couldn't dine on me there, were going to airlift me to their tundra domain for a leisurely feast. Although a prowling polar bear could have been lurking behind a nearby huge slab of ice and I should have been wary since we're on their menu, they were not on my mind at that time. Hmm...I wonder which would be a worse way to go - eaten alive by a hungry polar bear or bled to death by throngs of blood thirsty mosquitoes. Hopefully I'll never know...cheers, eh!