Ah, the joys of Mosquitoes

Dear mosquitoes,

Hi. The name’s…well my name is not important. I bet you’d wonder anyways because I can imagine supreme beings like you get names like Sally, Augustus, Tyrone and Post Election Violence, but I’m just going on a whim there.

How are you guys? How is the feeding season? It’s cold but with all the blood you keep SIPHONING, I bet you stay warm. Plus all the exercise, that’s got to count for something. I picture six packs and nicely toned thighs. Tell the overachievers to ease up on the workouts, nobody likes a show off.

Anyways, as you’ve noticed, I talk too much. My parents have not yet tried a facility but I’ll see that they get to my crazy as soon as possible.

I don’t want you to get too attached what with you needing the extra time for dinner and me being an obvious mosquito magnet. It just wouldn’t be fair for any of us.

I’d just like to say something. With you being a creature of God I would like us to dialogue before any blood is shed. Listen, I understand your need to feed on anything that breathes in oxygen and farts out an unknown deadly gas [Gaseous Exchange is what I hear them calling it, I could be wrong].

I’m guessing blood is an acquired taste. Just one request though, even though you are sucking on my blood, or my sister’s blood [I’m happy to offer her up as a sacrifice by the way] it’s nice to be quiet agreeable neighbours.

This may seem a bit harsh to you, some strange, awkwardly cool girl asking you to shut up but seriously, everyone needs a break from the world, so please

“SHUT THE HELL UP, I’M TRYING TO BLOODY SLEEP!”

Yours truly and kindly...

Me.

Uh...so...bye...?

So I was walking [some day] as I always do with my legs... and then I catch up with this girl I used to be in high school with. The thing is I never particularly used to talk to her. She was just that girl in my geography class who slept through most classes and still managed to be the top in our year. I tried that once with one exam and I’m not sure how well I did. I think they withheld my paper for investigation.

Yes, that’s right... I was that good.

Or bad

Or whatever

So I catch up with the girl and we say hi. Have you ever been in that awkward situation when you meet up with someone you barely know? It really is the time you realise that even the right words at that moment would not help the situation be normal.

It’s ten times worse if you are headed in the same direction to the same exact location.

It’s like when you see a bomb and have no idea what to do with it and you throw it at the guy next to you and they throw it back. In a way it’s playing  ‘Hot Potato’ with a bomb that’s about to erupt.

That’s what was happening. So I threw the bomb first.

Me: hi

Her: hey

Me: how’ve you been? [like I give a flying fruit-you know what I mean]

Her: fine. You?

Me: well, you know. [no she doesn’t, you don’t talk at all]

Her: ha. Yeah [you fruiting liar]

Silence.

More silence.

Now this is just awkward.

Me: um...

Her: ha. [what the fruit is funny?]

Me: so why are you headed to your room?

Her: oh, I just didn’t feel like attending class anymore.

This is the part I don’t get. When people are in uncomfortable situations they shut up. I on the other hand feel the need to share, to FRUITING share...

Me: [even though she doesn’t ask] oh, I forgot my book and so I decided since I’ve already signed the register it wouldn’t be too bad skipping class because I’ll just get the notes and read through them. Besides I even left my book in my room and I wouldn’t have even been listening because I’ve been distracted for the last few weeks not even sure by what but I think I’ll be able to get over it by the time exams roll by because I’m not going to let anything distract me because... [yeah that’s right, go ahead and tell her you’re going to take a dump and don’t forget to get her number in case you want to text her the size, shape and colour of what comes out in the toilet How I met your mother style].

Her: oh okay

Me: yeah

Silence.

More silence.

Please don’t try to fill up the silence Wairimu you’ll get us both into trouble.

I can’t possibly listen to myself; I talk a lot of sugar.

Me: so did you hear about the watchman almost getting arrested because he deflated someone’s tires and it was a visitor and the visitor called the cops but he didn’t get fired because some lawyer dude decided he was too good at his job even with all his made up rules because you know how some watchmen can make up their own rules...no? Okay, he made up his own rules and the cops told him to just fix the tires which I thought was just lazy because I could have done that myself had I been caught in the crossfire of it all.

I think at this point, the bomb is about to explode and I am using gossip to reel the conversation to level ground.

Her eyes perk up.

One for Wairimu; zero for awkward situations.

Her: really? That guy should just be fired.

Me: yeah [what an anti climax]

Silence

More silence

Oh yay, we are almost there.

Well, this is good, really good. We both stand at our bedroom doors.

Me: uh...so bye.

Open the door quickly as if I’m being chased by a lion...oh that’s not right... I mean like a bomb is about to blow and take cover within the confines of my room. I breathe out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding and hear the timer stop.

One second more and I would have been in a pile of myself and I think one of me is enough for the world to handle.

Revenge of the deadly

You guys won’t believe this but I was attacked... BY A MUTANT INSECT.

Okay, not so much a mutant insect but at the time it was as close as can get.

It was the day after my article on the bee that couldn’t fly, when I walked into the kitchen for midnight snack, at ten.

Little did I know that there was something waiting for me, something heinous, and something... out of this world.

Anyway, I’m skipping along probably singing at the top of my lungs like I do when I enter the store and bam! In front of me is one of those fat hairy caterpillars that are rumoured to cause rashes if they touch you. Naturally, I check for any exposed skin and right there are my innocent toes.

I instantly think back to the dead bee. Oh wait what was its name? Dumb, right.

If you’re normal you get how the two events are completely linked.

I decide I need calvary.

Me: daaaaaaaaad!!!

No answer, maybe they’ve gotten to him.

Me: daaaaaaad!!!!

Dad: yes wa?

Me: phew you’re safe.

Dad: what?

Me: I mean come and see! Come and see!

Dad: what is it?

Me: you have to come and see.

Silence

Me: daaaaaaaad!!!

Dad: okay I’m coming.

He’s not even in a hurry. I am being attacked by a caterpillar and he’s not even in a hurry. He shuffles towards me from the television room. He doesn’t even reach the kitchen before he decides to turn back. That’s after I’ve told him what the danger is.

Me: wait! You have to kill it!

Dad: leave it alone. Twain, will kill it.

Me: what? What if it comes upstairs and eats me instead, the caterpillar that is?

Dad: too bad.

My mouth drops. At the time you would think that it’s because of my father’s lack of concern over my obviously shaken state but I kid you not, it is not. Just at that moment, I notice that the caterpillar has a moth stuck to its body. It’s like they knew I was coming and so sent an extra pair of eyes to create an ultra insect. It’s like power rangers when they take all the rangers’ animals, put them together and form one big fighter robot.

Me: dad, it has two heads.

Dad: okay.

That’s just wrong. When your daughter tells you something has two heads, it’s probably best you find out what...

Quickly abandoning my midnight snack I race upstairs and ran to my mother whose ability to scare easily may make my father’s love for her spark him into action.

She’s in the shower so I have to shout through the door and doesn’t she hate that.

Me: muuuuuuuuuuuum!!!!

Mum: Wa, what is it??

Me: I’ve been attacked.

Mum: by what now?

Me: it was so scary.

Mum: eeeeh, what was it?

Ha, ha! Success!

Me: a caterpillar with the head of a moth.

Mum: ah, what is that?

Me: a HAIRY caterpillar with the head of a moth.

Emphasised words make all the difference.

Mum: ah, just that.

Just that? Just that? Does nobody understand the trauma that that can cause? It’s the equivalent of walking right into a hive of bees, theoretically of course. I think.

Me: mum, it was after me.

Mum: Wairimu get serious I am trying to shower.

Me: well, if I do say so myself.

Of course I never see the thing again because I am cautious enough not to go downstairs unless three things are happening:

1.  I am being attacked by something upstairs

2.  I am hungry to the point that I have imagined eating my teddy bears

3.  I didn’t have a third reason to make up on such short notice.

But just know one thing, when being attacked by any insect in the house, unless you are my mother who will scream until the neighbours wake up, do not call for help. Suck it in and let it pass.