So a mosquito landed on my face, took off, and landed again. Leaving me to slap myself twice in quick succession. It didn’t afford me the pleasure of swapping it, smearing it’s insides with satisfaction. Like that bloody mosquito those years ago.
Right now I’m angry with the world. It’s 2:58am and I can no longer sleep. I’ve been thinking up ways to get even. I no longer want to just kill this guy, I want to teach it a lesson. So I’m here, waiting, looking into the darkness for it. African mosquitoes are advanced you see. If you turn on the lights they just go through a wormhole and reappear in another space and time. I have to be as patient as the Amazon natives, as fast as the Masai, with wisdom of the Donga.
I know it’s only a mosquito but nothing in this world has made me slap myself, not once but twice.