Last night when I was running, I was viciously attacked not once, not twice, but three times by killer mostiquitoes! Usually here in South Florida I don't have a problem with mostquitoes; I believe they lay down a heavy fog of pesticides to keep the terrible beasts at bay, but maybe the bugs are beginning to mutate -- maybe they're using the pesticides to become bigger and stronger. I don't know, maybe there is no prtective coating of poison floating through the air, maybe the pollution normally keeps the buggers dead. At any rate, last night I was taken down in the prime of life.
I felt the first hit on the back of my thigh and I quickly stopped in mid-stride and smacked that sonofabitch dead, but I didn't catch the second or third fucker, and they both got away unscathed. I also spotted a mostquito in the house the other day (always relieved to see a mosquito over a coakroach) and I smashed that one in the air.
I'm a pretty decent shot when it comes to mosquito smashing; I lived in Minnesota for eight years, so you either get real good at smacking those damn things, or else you get eaten alive. Thankfully, in Minnesota, they're a little fatter, and therefore a little slower so they're a touch easier to smack. But because they flock in such large numbers, they will certainly overtake you, so really the best protection there is to go outside wearing a beekeeper suit.
But those bites last night made me feel itchy all over, and it was hard to fall asleep without scratching those bites right off. It's kind of like finding a tick on you and then you can't stop feeling like something is crawling all over you (but the worst feeling is to feel like something is crawling on you, and then you discover that something truly is crawling on you; trust me, you won't get to sleep after that). Now I have probably left you feeling itchy and scratchy all over and you're probably doing a quick scan for a creepy-crawly thing. Good luck with that -- you can be vigilant and they'll still get you -- sneaky fuckers.