Me Vs. Mosquitoes

The wet summer weather has brought about a scourge of mosquitoes to Wheatfield. It's like the mosquitoes are paparazzi and I just kidnapped Brad and Angelina's twins.

It's so bad; people actually demanded that the town do an aerial spraying. We were the only people who didn't see the notice in our mailbox that you were supposed to stay inside and close the windows on the night of the spraying, so we sat outside and wondered why that plane was flying so low over the neighborhood.

The spraying didn't work. These fucking things are like little blood whores who can't get enough. Normally, I would crave this sort of attention, but it's too much. The mosquitoes must die.

I hate mosquitoes. I know of several people who can just ignore a small winged animal stealing their blood, but I take each sting like a personal attack. I want to find out where the mosquitoes live and burn down their village.

I would like to think the world would be a better place without mosquitoes, but I remember hearing that they're vital to the eco system. When I was a kid, I asked my mom if we really needed mosquitoes. And my mom said, "Not now honey, Mommy's taking a nap." And I said, "Mom, shouldn't you keep your eyes on the road." My mom was right though. We don't need mosquitoes.

Scientists are always saying that God created mosquitoes for a reason. Well, I would ask those scientists why God created nuclear bombs. Did God intend for those nuclear bombs to go off? Are those nuclear bombs making the world a better place? The answer is, sometimes god fucks up. Or, God is challenging us to keep the shit that we need on this earth and to gas the other stuff until it dies. It's like a divine scavenger hunt.

And, to all of you fucking seal-hugging hippes who think that killing mosquitoes is wrong, how do you know that they're good mosquitoes? How do you know that the mosquitoes I plan to kill didn't just date-rape a bunch of friendly mosquitoes? What if all of the mosquitoes I'm killing are angry, mean, pedophile drunks who kill good mosquitoes who just fell in love on vacation. I don't read a lot of Shakespeare, but I think he wrote a play about this. And the message was clear; Kill mosquitoes.

So the government can do all it wants to stop me from killing mosquitoes, but it can't stop winter from coming. I cannot wait until October. I'm going to sit in my backyard with a sweatshirt on and a beer in my hand and wait for the temperature to dip below 40 degrees. Then I'm going to cackle laughter as all of the mosquitoes die in one big genocidal swoop.

Then my wife is going to leave me because I drink too much and the neighbors keep calling the cops because I yell at cars.