Mosquitoes. Oh, how I hate thee...
I saw this sign at the Jolly Boys Backpacker Lodge in Vic Falls, where Michael and I have stayed for the past few days:
Amen, brother. Amen.
In my opinion, mosquitoes in Africa aren't like other mosquitoes. They laugh at my feeble defensive countermeasures, such as long-sleeved shirts, long pants, and DEET-based insect repellents. Here's how I imagine their conversation going:
- Mr. Mosquito: Honey, I'm home.
- Mrs. Mosquito: Hello dear. How was your day?
- Mr. Mosquito: Not bad. I bit the bejeezus out of some kid. Even bit him on embarrassing and/or irritating places, like the middle of his forehead and the bottom of his foot.
- Mrs. Mosquito: Fantastic! But wasn't he, like, wearing 50%-strength DEET, the kind that melts plastic, causes cancer, and routinely blinds small children?
- Mr. Mosquito: Ha! 50% is pathetic. I sprinkle 50% on my breakfast cereal.
Anyway, African mosquitoes have bitten me over 100 times in a little over a month. Yeesh. I think of Khan in Star Trek II, shaking his fist at Kirk and saying "For hate's sake, I spit my last breath at thee..."* And this leads me to my wish of the moment:
I wish I had Japanse animation-style qi-energy,** which I would use solely to wipe out every mosquito on the face of the earth.*** The revenge would be sweet. And I would serve it cold, like Khan did.
*Yes, I know the quote is actually Ahab's/Herman Melville's, not Khan's.
**The kind where raw power crackles around me and runs through my hands and across my skin in violent little waves.
***Screw the food chain.