Mosquito Song

An Ode to the mosquito: Nature’s tiny pestilent vampire

It’s a war going on outside no man is safe from... Never before has there been a creature so desperate and hell bent than the mosquito.

Oh to have worn pants today, or chain mail preferably. These short shorts are leaving far too much to the imagination of these fortuitous little blood suckers. I have been able to swipe the air or my own calf and gather just swaths of the relentless creatures, my own blood smearing my skin as I smoosh them in my fingers, their fallen brethren captured in the wilds of my leg hair. I huddle on a rock, in the fetal position on the high ground above the still water, with the best of my belongings covering my bare thighs yet still they come. A failure of protection right now, what I wouldn’t give to be back in the safety of my bug net.

I seem to have penetrated deep into their breeding ground, violent swarms of newly hatched bloodthirsty broodlings. It’s the mosquito holy land and I’m fighting for my existence in their territory.

Which of the gods above has allowed me to forget my tiny bottle of natural bug spray? Would that even save me out here? Am I forsaken to perish by blood loss at the hands of these minuscule pests?

Nature’s heat seeking missile, locked in on the slightest pulse of pumping red liquid.

A thousand million zillion relentless homing devices that you can’t shake no matter how much arm flailing or jogging or kicking or screaming!

If mosquitos were really vampires I would be 100% transformed by now with my own wings and red eyeballs and lust for bloooooood...

Why oh why did I forget my bug spray and head net!? I am totally buying pants in the next town. (He did).