Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe
Mystery #114 – Mosquitoes
I enjoy the weather in Arizona. It’s hot, but in the way my oven is hot. China, however, is hot like a hobo’s armpit: it’s warm and sticky and there are bugs here.
Which of course means mosquitoes. Like every other sane person on the face of the planet, I hate mosquitoes. They drink your blood and give you pimples without the silver lining/pastime of popping. Did I mention the blood? They also, I sometimes fear, might have the power to turn me into a mosquito vampire, which would be like a regular vampire except I’d be repelled by DEET and my castle would be in a bayou, which is lame. If I’m going to be transformed into a creature of the night for all eternity, I’m not spending it in Louisiana.
To protect against this (and, you know, itchiness) I’ve developed a talent for snatching bugs out of the air with my bare hand and crushing them. I used to do the same at home with flies and gnats, only without the crushing. However, I feel obligated to kill the mosquitoes – and quickly – lest my pastime become counter-productive.
It’d be kind of like an all you can eat buffet violently abducting a passing fat man, it’s magical forces depositing him before a silently whirring soft-serve machine. “Feed,” it would command him, it’s voice cold and metallic, “Drain me, and find sustenance.” His trembling, flabby hand would reach for a waffle cone, apprehensive but all too willing.
So yeah, crushing it is.
This was all well and good until the other day, when a mosquito made it through my defenses to score a direct hit. I was so angry, I caught him, grabbed a lighter, and held him by the wings with a pair of tweezers while burning him alive. That prompted a good look in the mirror. Just, ya know, FYI. Don’t bite me.
