Flies by Day, Mosquitos by Night

         I have always hated flies.  Annoying creatures that buzz around my face and land their teeny legs on my skin to share their germs.  My idea of hell consists of non-dying flies.

         Mosquitos never bothered me quite so much when I was single.  They loved my brother, Patrick.  I could stand next to him anytime the mosquitos were out and never be bitten.  He could even be doused in an entire can of repellent and I with nothing, and the mosquitos would still go after him.  I had actually convinced myself that mosquitos actually died on my blood.

         During the last five years or so, my blood must have improved in taste – or else the mosquitos are just getting more desperate.  I know the Red Cross is.  They had also taken my blood out of desperation.  It’s never been wonderful blood like Patrick or Roland has. 

I don’t know about Patrick, but Roland gets contacted by Red Cross every two months as though it’s mandatory now.  So why do the mosquitos always feast on me instead of him?  Because he’s always hidden under a blanket while I am always exposed?  Back in my childhood day, the mosquitos would have found a way to get under the blanket to get Patrick’s blood and still leave me alone.

         I have written this post about a family tradition in which we honor Christmas in July.  Though the last two years have been in August. 

         Michelle had messaged family members on facebook to give us a date and to make/get food assignments.  Messaging is supposed to be discreet, but somewhere along the way, at least one mosquito learned of the event.

         Corey had already responded that he and Joh would be unable to make the event.  When Michelle announced that we had surprise visitors, she was absolutely right.  We were all surprised to see Joh and Corey walking towards us.

         As the food broke out, so did the flies.  As Corey and I sat and visited, we both waved our arms as we swatted at flies.  As we were waving our arms I made the comment that I didn’t know which was worse: mosquitos or flies.  Within a matter of minutes I got my answer.

 

         Mosquitos, aware of our party, must have sent out a bulletin that read:

Free Blood Banks!

Free succulent blood!

Backyard party at Michelle’s house.

Tell ALL of your friends!

Every mosquito within a 500-mile radius must have shown up to chomp on my family.  The itches usually don’t start up quite that soon for me.  These mosquitos were ruthless.  They showed no mercy.  Amazingly none of us needed to leave in an ambulance.  We’re all still alive.  None of us were devoured to death – though I think that may have been preferable.  At least I wouldn’t itch anymore.

I’ve got huge bites on my arms and legs.  One even dared bite the bottom of my foot.  HOW DARE HE (or she)!  My family was not designed to be the source of another creature’s picnic food.  I wonder how swollen Patrick is right now.  Or Corey.  He received just as many bites as I had – or more.  Perhaps all of us got bitten equally – except for Joh.  He claimed the mosquitos weren’t bothering him. How's that even possible?

If it was fat that mosquitos were feasting on instead of bloeed, I could learn to live with the itching.  All family members involved would be so thin right now.

Mosquitos MUST DIE!!!