We’ve been fighting a mosquito in the
house for days. The high-pitched buzzing insect
has evaded death several times.
It cleverly hides on the light walls or furniture,
very low or up on the 14’ ceiling.
I won’t use bug spray--hate the smell.
I bet the bugger knows that, too--hence,
why it’s been a cat and mouse game for almost a week.
I thought of wearing a disguise, a la Far Side--
maybe a gigantic bug suit with a huge stinger.
Might scare the toxins--for lack of a better word--
out of the mosquito!
For insects so insignificantly small, they bring
down grown men.
It’s funny to see Tom go after the critter.
Towels swat left and right at the evasive insect.
Well, the battle finally ended last night when
the space invader met Paul’s wrath, after biting
him twice while he was at the computer.
With the swiftness and precise aim of a great mosquito
marksman, he clapped the Biting One--
may it lie squished in peace.
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