The time is 17:03 on Monday, 2 September 2024. I can count 2 mosquitos bussing around my arms and legs. I’ve spent many a session trying to write despite them. Sometimes *smack* I try to grin it and bear through the endless bites. My arms have become that of the Elephant Man *smack*.
Today I decided to torture myself my writing alongside my bitey frienemies. This is my attempt in real time to *smack* write about mosquitos as somebody currently being assaulted *smack* by them. They have multiplied to about 6 or 7, and they’re coming in hot. Each smack is a real smack, and my monologue is my mo *smack* ouch, fuckers —ahem. My monologue is my monologue.
It is 8 minutes past the hour, and I welcome you along as I become patient 0 for the next mosquito-borne *smack* pandemic.
What I know about Mossies
*smack* Very little, actually. I know that they’re major vectors for diseases: malaria, zika, dengue, japanese encephalitis fuck off, however that’s spelled. go away *smack*. I once heard that more deaths have been caused by malaria than any human or natural-borne affliction; I’m not sure how accurate that is, but it’s a horrifying thought if true, and it makes me question what I’m doing here.
[Author’s note: We don’t actually know if this is the case! Some have claimed 60 billion have died of the disease, but most estimates are significantly lower.]
My arms and feet are uncovered, and it feels like they’re biting all over. One cheeky fucker is bussing around my right elbow. Either bite me or leave!
I was fully vaccinated up before heading to India except for Japanese Encephalitis. Malaria was the scary one, but I had multiple pharmacists deny me malaria pills before *smack* missed *smack* that was an ankle-bite little shitters there’s like 20 of them now where was I? Yes - denied me malaria pills multiple times before moving to Mumbai. “But I’m going to be travelling to hot zones (or whatever they’re called),” I said. Apparently that wasn’t enough to convince them.
Anyways, throughout all the stress they’re everywhere of it all, I completely forgot to get a vaccine for a preventable, severe mosquito borne illness. It wasn’t too stressful - something like a 1 in 2,000,000 infection rate..
[Author’s note: 1.08 cases per 1,000,000 people. It was probably fine]
If I pulled what I’m doing now, I’d probably have more to worry about. They are there on my left *smack* heel.
Yes! Back to mosquito facts off the top of my head. Malaria was once thought to be an airborne illness, dating back to a time before germ theory where humoural balance was the end-all-be-all of medicine. It was said to be caused by poisonous (I’m not sure if poisonous is the best metaphor for what they thought it actually was) air.
The ancient Greeks were the original bigots; they believed that the Greek climate lent itself to the perfect humoural balance: blood, phlegm, black bile and bile were all perfectly balanced in the Athenian spring sun I think one just bit me on the face — and it meant that the Greeks saw themselves as constitutionally superior to the wet and phlegmatic Ukrainians (whatever they called themselves) oh look a lizard just ran past and the hot and dry climate of North Africa.
There are two just flying there clin *smack* clinging to each other.
*smack*
A Story about Mosquitos Growing *smack* Up
If they keep biting my feet, I’m not going to get a good thumbnail for this post. More arm bites please!
IT JUST LANDED ON MY FINGER STOP
It’s 25 past the hour, and the lads are here to party. And by party, I mean bite me on the forehead. Bastards.
They’re everywhere down here when the sun goes down. In any standing pool of fresh water, you can find their little horrible larvae *smack* - got two in one go! *smack* and another one! leave me ALONE wriggling about like it’s a fucking psychedelic rave.
My brother and I — we must have been no older than 14 — decided to take my uncle’s fishing rods and fish in the evening off the jetty. We had no I am itching like a motherfucker clue what we were in for. No clue that there are evil bitey wee fuckers waiting for our sweet blood. The sun began to set, and the smacking began.
Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. We held on for as long as we could.
*smack*
It became too much. They were anticipating our every movement. We bolted; the fishing rods were twice our height and far too heavy for our noodly little arms to carry. We smacked as we ran, we ran as we smacked. Every few meters or so, we would loosen our grips on the fishing rods, and the tips would hammer into the rocky soil. In our little minds, they seemed to be great big pole vaults. *smack smack smack fuckers smack SMACK* (my elbow took a beating) *smack for good measure*
This was such a horrible idea.
Anyways, when we gave our fishing rods back to our uncle, the tips were all bent in from being shoved into the g *smack* ground again and again and again. He was so upset. We were too itchy to argue and just decided to play dumb. There are two on top of each other, what the fuck *smack*
He never let us use those fishing rods again.
Malar *smack* Malaria — How Mosquitos Gave Me Chronic Heartburn
Did you know, tonic water is called such because it contains quinine, an they’re gone?! anti-malarial. The colonial-era Brits would mix gin in it to make the medicine palatable. The birth of the famous Gin and Tonic!
It’s 35 minutes past the hour, by the way. Over half way there!
Even the parts that don’t itch, itch
*smack* *smack*
The annoying part is when they fly away before you have a chance to *smack* hit them
Needless to say they’re not actually gone *Smack*
Ok back to heartburn. Quinine is a piss poor antimalarial in today’s world of cyclines and other cool medicinal hydrocarbons. I lived in Zambia for a couple months in 2019 and had to take doxycycline to keep safe from malaria. One pill a night; easy.
Not so much.
It turns out, doxycycline *smack* does not play well with the inner lining of your esophagus how the fuck do I spell that word? I laid down a wee bit too early when I *smack* took my malaria meds one day, and I think the outer casing melted while it was still in my upper half. I couldn’t swallow anything for weeks without this intense pain, and it comes back every now and again as heart burn.
Granted, I haven’t actually seen a real doctor about this yet, but every nurse or doc I’ve spoken to casually says that sounds about right!
They *smack* say it’s not wise for me to eat fatty or spicy food, or drink hard spirits, *smack* but it’s probably fine. A spicy meal and stiff whisky are so worth the pain!
Inside the mind of a mosquito
5:44. 16 minutes to go. I’ve run out of things to say about mosquitos (I’ll probably think of more, don’t worry!), so to fill the final quarter of this scream-of-consciousness, I’m going to put myself inside the head of a mosquito. They’re gone again. Probably preparing for an assault.
It’s hard for me to get in the headspace of such a horrible creature, but I’ll do my best.
“What’s that smell? Pheromones?! Me likey! Me bitey! Buzz off, brethren, he’s mine! Ohh that’s some delicious human blood. He thinks I’m here just to drink it. Oh no! Little does he know my bites sting and itch too — that’ll show the bastard for just trying to sit outside and enjoy his fucking eveni *smack* evening!”
“I’m just going to hover threateningly by his arm. He can’t hit me when I’m in the air, uncoordinated homunculus (I don’t think a mosquito would know a word of that many syllables, but give me creative freedom please!) *smack* . The second I land the blood sucking begins! He’s going to try to smack me? Please! I’ll just fly away, as though I can sense his movements (I can’t because I’m a stupid little mosquito). He’ll never hit me!”
“Also I hate puppies!!!!” (direct quote)
They really are just less s *smack* sexy versions of vampires. That type of parasitism — I take the blood from you and use it to beautify myself — really captured the romantic imagination of storytellers for a wee while there.
Tuberculosis patients inspired the way we portray vampires in films and literature. TB is otherwise known as consumption, aptly named because it seems to ‘consume’ whoever is infected with it. They waste away during the course of the illness, growing pale and meager with time. If you’re a Victorian writer whose love is fading away to the consumption, appearing all helpless and thin and meager, I guess you would problematically sexualise it where have the mossies gone??.
It makes me wonder why there hasn’t been some sort of hypersexualised version of a mosquito before? Then again, I’m glad it doesn’t exist. We’re all probably better off for it.
[Author’s note: I’m real sorry about that one.]
*smack* (that one was scripted).
It’s five minutes until the turn of the hour. This has been a truly terrible experience. I thought I’d have more admiration for them after writing this — loving animals and nature has kind’ve always been my thing. I hate them now more than ever. They’re the one animal on the face of this, the Earth, that genuinely has no positive role to play in our collective betterment.
As a final reflection on this experience: please nobody do anything remotely similar, especially if you live in an area where mossies *smack* WHY are vectors for serious ailments. I’m lucky enough in South Florida to be pretty safe pulling shit like this; most are not.
I hope you got something out of this. All I got were a bunch of itchy lumps.
Until next week, folks! Peace and love :)