I am writing this post into my phone while lying in bed. It’s 11pm and I am wide awake thanks to you. None of this information really matters to you. You know exactly where I am and you only want one thing from my wife, dog and myself, and it’s neither sex nor money. You hover over us with an arrogrance, believing you’re stealth, yet that buzzing gives you away. Like the deadly rattling of Luftwaffe aircraft engines rattling over its enemy cities and its citizens wait in trepidation for the dive dombing to begin.
The irony is, you’re a filthy fascist, too. Collectively you’ve mercilessly murdered millions of people, especially in developing countries, spreading malaria, zika, dengue, yellow fever, chikungunya, amongst other illnesses, for your insidious political agenda. Ethnic cleansing.
Yet, little insect, I wish not to insult you or throw around wild accusations. I want to reason with you, find out why you feel the need to carry out such atrocities. Maybe we can come to some kind of agreement where I point you in the direction of fat Aston Villa or Olimpia supporters (they’re only subhuman species, anyway). But we need to get to the bottom of it.
First of all, blood. I don’t understand this fascination with blood. Why blood? There are so much nicer things to suck on and drink. Whiskey, Ribena or hot chocolate. Vampires and bats are passé. Boring. Gone. Why can’t you adjust your diet and join your fly cousins in the culicidae family, and just eat shit and leftovers? Why do you have to get all posh and like blood? Blood is so fatty and unhealthy. Especially mine (my wife’s is far nicer).
Talking of families, is that the real reason you commit all this misery? Family problems? Emotional turmoil? Resentment? Is it because I swatted your parent or sibling or spouse last week? Revenge is a sin, remember. Or is it anger against your own parents, who left you as a defenseless little larve in dirty water? You had to defend for yourself in your childhood, in this dark desperate world you live in, while building that bizarre insatiable thirst for blood. Is that why you’re a psychotic little shite? Go on. I’m listening. Let it all out.
Why lie? Why try to seduce or communicate with an iresome insect? I hate you. You hate me. It’s mutual.
The blood, I’m willing to donate to those who need it. Emergencies in hospitals. I’m an O type, I think, to those interested. I don’t give it away to robbing bastards like you though, who steal in the night, while invariably leaving a life-threatening disease and a painful and itchy swelling. No. No way. Shameless fucking freeloaders, stealing from the needy. Coming to think of it, you really are the most horrid creatures to have ever walked (or flown) on this planet (other than Villa or Olimpia fans); no exaggeration. Give yourself a pat on that blood filled back. Sneak thief.
Well, look at that. My wife has just turned on the fan and you’ve flown off. COWARD. I hope you fly into it or suffocate in spray. Death to you, one way or the other.
As for now, I need to stop the profanities and get some shut eye. There is literally no point in writing to a mosquito. You’ll never read this. Don’t bother to write back, either (although I’d be impressed if you did).
I hate you with all my heart.
Nick “El Catracho” Rogers