The Fly and the Mosquito

If there’s a crazy insect it must be the fly. A talking fly would sound like this, “Oh, life is so pretty, so sweet, oh, so great, so good, I’m dizzy, and that’s great, ah, I don’t know where to fly, and that’s good, oh, come here, go there, ah, I’m going to be squashed, but life is so pretty, so sweet.” Fly’s parlance would freak out the majority of humans.

 

The mosquito however is getting clever and cleverer. I too have been participating in the mosquitoes’s natural selection. We’ve been killing the scout mosquitoes and the dumb ones which ignored the death of the said scouts. Only the surviving mosquitoes, obviously, reproduce*. The last time I tried to newspaperize a mosquito, it took me three days. They now hide in less obvious places than on the white wall next to the bed lamp. They now know when I’m going to turn the light on. And they now know when I gave up the fight and went to sleep, no longer caring if I’d have some free blood samples taken out of me or not.  

 

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* It isn’t that obvious for people who believe in reincarnation.