I'm warm, moist and delicious.

11 January, 2010

To mosquitoes.

Last night I wasn't sure if it was just my imagination or if something really was biting me. So on went the flashlight, and sure enough, there were fresh mozzie bites strewn across my lower half. I have particularly tasty ankles and feet. One mozzie sat drunkenly digesting on the low ceiling just above me, and I ruthlessly smashed it in an impressive show of (my) blood.

I'm sure mosquitoes must only need a bite or two at a time to sustain themselves. But when I'm around, all bets are off. They just can't help themselves. They go back for more, and more, and more, until they have drunk themselves to the point of disability, so overstuffed that they can't escape my victim vengeance. I'm mosquito heroin.

I could be the heroine in a Twilight-esque tale, only instead of a sexy vampire, my tragic beau is a mosquito, trying to abstain from sucking the life out of me. He fails. Roll credits.