9.20.2005

Dear Mosquito That I Killed at 3 a.m.,

How are you? I am just fine. I'm doing great, actually. Especially since I killed the holy hell out of you after you drank a quart of my blood without permission, written or otherwise.

Now that I mention it, how do you do it? You must have a very high metabolism to drink all that blood and maintain that figure. As I squashed you, you looked fantastic. I would have expected you to have ballooned out to the size of a little floating kitten. Well, you don't know how lucky you are. Or were, right up until the moment you got cocky and hovered near my arm in full view. Yeah, that was a really dumb move.

But the bigger question is, where in the hell were you hiding during the period when you were draining me dry with impunity? See, I know you're just a mosquito and are therefore maybe not 100% in touch with the real estate market. I accept that. But this is what they call in the real estate section a "cozy, quaint, adorable" studio. There just ain't that many places to hide in here, even for you.

However you did it, I commend you. I almost wish you were alive so that I could shake your little hand. Actually, I mostly wish you were alive so that I could kill you all over again. I'm sure it was less than ideal for you but I found it supremely satisfying.

Sincerely,

Jeff

P.S. Please feel free to haunt your friends and family in the mosquito community and convey to them the deal that I make with all household pests (pardon the term): I will allow you to live provided that I have no knowledge of your existence. Once you're on my radar, sorry, but I'm just going to have to kill you. I think that is more than fair. Thank you.

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