Mosquito season begins…

For those who didn’t see the swathes of mosquito’s leaving Africa and heading for my balcony last week, it’s only fair to inform you that if you happen to pass by my humble abode and are equally likely to be made up of the same delectable blood feast as I, then bring a few extra bags of Plasma if you expect to stay for any length of time.

You’d think my blood has a best before date interwoven into it on a molecular level.

It must have been about 11:30 last night, I was sat playing my guitar on the balcony when I noticed the first one arrive. It took it a while to unpack and get tooled up as it prepared itself for what I can only assume was it’s ‘midnight snack’.

The others had clearly already been to the bar and gotten well liquor’ed up as the first few that attempted to take advantage of me whilst I was distracted made no effort to conceal themselves.

Game on.

– ‘Buzz…’.

A feint movement caught my eye, slowly hovered haphazardly about my face like a drunkard to a bar and then disappeared out of sight. At first I paid no notice to it as my mind clearly had locked the distant memory of last year’s season deep in the darkness.

A couple of minutes later mid strum this lone f*cker just dive bombed me out of nowhere. He must have been the scout. I could see no other legions on the horizon however did notice the clear markings of it being a Kamikaze.

The tempo dropped as my heart quickened, playing out the beat to my own demise as in unison we waited. Part of me hoped the Soundtrack to Halloween would play out as I sat, nervously trying to focus on whatever the hell it was I played.

It mattered not. I’d have felt safer playing the theme to Jaws as I sat there, eyes wide, sweat now beginning to form on my brow, anxiety spreading through my body like a poison, watching for my nemesis apparent to resurface from the shadows.

The music fell silent.

– ‘slap’. One.

– ‘Buzzing…’

– ‘slap’. Another.

Silence again as one landed on my right arm currently supporting the guitar.

– ‘slap’. “F*cker” I mutter to myself, as the seriousness suddenly dawned on me.

”Mosquito season bitches”. I smiled unto myself, briefly savouring the moment .

Here’s the thing. I can’t stop them. I never will.

Each year will always be the same, year after year until they either finally drain me dry, wear me out or I kill them all.

Personally, I like the odds either way but the sadomasochist in me has gotten used to this seasonal phenomenon and now takes a kind of disturbed pleasure knowing that while they are intent on trying to f*ck me up briefly, few if none will ever live to tell the tale.

Everyday onwards till probably late September is now my Pearl Harbour.

I wake knowing that somewhere nearby these f*ckers are all saying mass, lined up by the thousands waiting to begin their assault, slowly wrapping their own ‘Rising Sun’ flags tightly around their heads before bursting forth in their droves.

I want to wake screaming “Not this time MUTHA F*CKERS” as I heroically throw over the shoulder strap to my Mini-gun, bravely stepping out into the Sun, butt naked and covered in Nutella aka Sylvester Stallone in Rambo and go out in a blaze of Death or Glory.

Of course I’m sure my neighbours and the Police might have something to say about the Mini-gun.

Standing butt naked on the balcony covered in Nutella, probably not so bad.

Mini-gun in a built up area, well, If I was in New York or Baltimore it probably wouldn’t even get noticed, more people being likely to get upset over the Nutella being wasted.

If I could lure them all in one area I’d quite happily embrace the hot merciless Death brought to me by a few tactfully placed Grenades. One for all and all for one as I went, content in the knowledge that I at least saved humanity from a fate worse than itchy balls.

I’m guessing.

I’ve read extensively on them. Mosquito’s obviously, not itchy balls…

No need.

Tried all the tricks, remedies, ate copious amounts of Garlic, and apart from lying in the bath submerged breathing through a straw have not yet eluded their wrath.

Even then, apart from the water getting infuriatingly cold, my penis shrinking and my skin getting wrinkly they only served to take over the bathroom and lounge about like they were at the beach. There was even one fetching them drinks!

Apparently it’s because I’m f*cking awesome… lol

Shut up, why else?

Yoda, meme, spank it i will
Shhhhh… Behave.

Science can’t disprove this so until there is a better understanding of my magic powers, unknown to me I clearly will be the ‘One’.

I’m thinking of setting up a contest on my balcony to see who is the ‘Most edible person on the Planet’. For Mosquito’s, obviously.

Human trials I dare say have been ongoing since I discovered women and research is presently ongoing… (Enquiries welcome, please fill out the form below).

I do have a slightly biased idea already but I digress, back to Mosquito’s!

So, if you happen to be one of the few people on the Planet who’s blood type is ‘O’ So F*cking Delicious, then please get in touch.

Mini-guns and Nutella are optional but I do feel that both the neighbours and the Police will be less likely to interfere if we are at least several in number.

I don’t mind being bitten, not to fussed over getting sick to be honest if the f*ckers start using chemical warfare but as long as I go out fighting, I’m good with it.

The lone stragglers that get caught in the house and begin their gorilla warfare campaign are the worst. Hit and run, keeping you from the precious sanctity of your dreams. Those I hate.

I was once woken by what must have been the queen Mosquito several years back, she’s was huge. Very reminiscent of that scene in Alien if I think about it. Either way, huge.

The worst thing wasn’t the size of her, it was the noise. F*cking scared me half to death. Initially I woke thinking I was being attacked by an invisible Vibrator.

Worrying, but it could be much worse I suppose. I didn’t want to think of that, still don’t, but you know – It could have…

Anyway, after several tense moments and nothing having entered any of my (now) unnaturally tight orifices. I could relax enough to turn on the light and try and find the source of my fears.

Relief. No invisible sex toy to be seen…!?

What I did notice though was the Kim Kardasian of Mosquito’s sucking me dry and not in a good way either. It’s fat face was clearly stuck and in the rush as it sated it’s vampiristic bloodlust it either hadn’t realized, or couldn’t move for being so overfed that it couldn’t move.

Not sure how I feel about Mosquito Fellatio, probably used. As long as they call again, I suppose it softens the blow… (lol) – See what I did there…

“I crack myself so consistently the f*ck up sometimes…” – God.

(Clearly a appropriate to quote a phrase from somewhere, or something that might have or not have ever been said by someone).

Well, after I’d squashed the damned thing it was like a scene from the ‘Texas chainsaw massacre’. Blood everywhere and all mine, never knowing if I’d ever wake from my sleep I went back to bed, weakened. Eager to see if indeed I’d turn or bleed out as more detected the scent.

Obviously, I survived.

Waking wasn’t much better though to be honest either. Thankfully I hadn’t been drinking the night before otherwise I may have needed therapy for some years.

I’ve had some annoying ex-girlfriends in the past but never ever wanted to wake to a scene like this.

My first reaction was to think ‘man, how p*ssed was I last night?’… Then I remembered I’d stayed in and hadn’t had a drink for weeks. I still wasn’t comfortable about waking up next to what looked like a very bad BDSM session with a fat ugly Alien but I suppose you can’t always chose who you fall in love with.

Needs must and the devil provides I guess but no, thankfully not.

Anyway, back to the ‘now’ as I sit cautiously typing, eager not to give my location away to the scouts currently patrolling around my balcony, Mini-gun resting against my office chair as I desperately await the first of many Nutella shipments due to arrive over the course of the next few months…

Thankfully I have one of my loyal servants nearby, ever eager to thwart any imminent attack. Nothing get’s by his steely eyed ruthlessness.

Pinky, lounging, cat, cute, pussy, guard cat, tiger
Who’s this biatch kidding? He’s the one getting eaten…

He’s like a Tiger.

A gay Tiger mind you, but still a fearsome and predatory servant of doom. Serving up doom whenever he works out what ‘doom’ actually means, and ‘predatory’ and quite possibly ‘servant’ if I’m totally honest.

Note : No offence mean’t to Tigers either. In today’s Politically Correct world it’s not hard to upset some folk…

And it’s no slight to Gay’s either. This guy’s adorable but he does mince about and stands around looking out the window like he’s wearing Spandex.

No, really…

Meanwhile…

The ‘Most edible person on the Planet’ will be hopefully be covered in great detail in the near future, also quite likely to be covered in Nutella, honey and a number of complimentary ingredients too over an intense and highly thorough examination of their credentials takes place.

Over and over again… Θ)

 

Chapter 01 began some years previously, in a world long ago…

How to NOT ‘not’ get bitten by mosquitos!

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