The mosquitoes came in low. It was dark, no lights on and I could only hear their high-pitched whine. But last night was different, I played the game of appeasement too long. For the last month I had been terrorized by mosquitoes every night. As soon as the lights were out, they’d come in and feast on me. Too wily to spot, to quick to catch, I was getting eaten alive every night. They buzz around my face taunting me and depriving me of sleep. And when I awoke, it would be to the terror of a day of itching, a day of scratching at these little bits all over my feet, my legs, my chest, my arms and my face.
But like I said, last night was different.
This night, I laid a trap for them. I waited, softly and quietly in the dark, waited for the little devil bugs to come. And then I heard their whine. I remembered once watching a WWII movie which talked about not shooting until you could “See the whites of their eyes.” Now I don’t know if mosquitoes have whites or even if they have eyes. Besides which ignorance, it was dark and as close to Rambo as I may be, I still cannot see in the dark—very well. Instead, I waited until I could feel the flutter of their wings on my face. Mosquitoes wings buzz so fast, they generate a large flow of air. So I laid quietly, not moving as they whined about my face. But their time was not yet. There was no guarantee that I’d kill them if they were still in the air. These mosquitoes were veterans, they knew how to move in the air. I had no chance unless I waited.
So I waited. Pass after pass, they flew over me—I guessed reconnaissance missions to make sure I was asleep. Well, such was my anger I could wait. And waiting paid off. Finally one of the little buggers got brave or stupid and landed on my nose. I felt the feet, the antennae, but not yet…I had to be sure. Waiting and waiting and finally it came, that sharp almost indiscernible prick of the mosquito’s sucker. There was no backing out now. I slapped my face will all the force I had—enough to give me a bloody nose. But the mosquito’s nose was not the only bloody thing about him—I turned that bug into the flattest mosquito the world has ever seen. I actually contacted Guinness Book of World Records to see if it wasn’t a new record—I haven’t heard back yet.
But the battle was on now, they knew I was awake. I leapt out of bed with a primordial yell, flicking on the lights. The small insect bodies scattered up towards the ceiling where they thought they were out of my reach. They hadn’t yet comprehended the awful nature of my trap. As wily as mosquitoes are, they are not as smart as their human prey, something which is decidedly to their disadvantage. They didn’t know I could jump on the bed.
Both hands flailing, I leapt into the air, clapping like a madman father at his son’s football game. The squashed mosquitoes fell, littering the floor like some plague of locusts. Soon there were audible crunches every time I came back down onto the bed. But the war of attrition had begun.
Just as I thought was gaining on the bugs, they brought out reinforcements from the bathroom. Apparently the humid atmosphere in that room was being used as a breeding ground for the evil bugs. But I was not daunted. I intended to exact vengeance for so many sleepless nights and the more bugs which came to the party the better. I abandoned the bed and began chasing the small black insects all around the room. I yelled, I screamed, I slapped the bugs flat on every surface in the room. But there were so many of them. And these were the crack troops, the Navy Seals, the Delta Force, the Massad, and the SAS all rolled into one. They began landing on my back, on my shoulders, all over me. Soon, I was reduced to swatting the bugs on myself, unable to see for the cloud of insects. And in the back of my mind I began to wonder if I wasn’t going to lose this one. I imagined someone coming in to the room the next morning and finding my mosquito bite covered body lifeless upon the floor. And for a moment I almost accepted this fate. But there was still a little something deep down in me which wasn’t going to give up.
And then, in what was nothing less than divine intervention, my hand come down upon a blanket. Whipping this up I began to swing it around about me, catching up all the light mosquitoes in a whirlwind of air. Like a tornado the bugs were pulled into the blanket cyclone. Soon the entire air was clear and they were all wrapped up in the folds of the blanket. With a roar equal to Samson’s scream as he tumbled the temple pillars, I hurled the blanket against the wall and sent all the little vampire bugs to their awful demise.
I don’t know if bugs have an afterlife. But wherever the mosquito afterworld is, it has a whole hell of a lot more residents now. Perhaps I can get some sleep tonight.
