recently the mosquitoes in my room seemed to have greatly increased in number, or maybe they were just sucking my blood more. sometimes if i just swung my arm i might hit one. being the easily frustrated sort i felt uncomfortable just being in the same room with these minute buzzing creatures, furthermore if their bites itched.
who's ideas was mosquitoes anyway. these irritating pests do not help in pollinating flowers, nor do they play an important part in the food chain. and they suck your blood for goodness sake.
so i went down to the store and bought every can of pesticide i can find. i'd rather suffocate to death then stay alive itching. i sprayed every corner of my room, every crevice that these foul creatures might hide in.
perhaps it was all the fumes i have been inhaling, i felt very tired. i went to brush my teeth like i always do before i go to bed. when i came back from the toilet i was surprised to see a dark figure sitting next to my bed. i was aware that it might be my hallucination, so i told him right away, hoping that my declaration of reality may help me dispel him.
unfortunately it didn't work. in fact, he started speaking. "you have been killing too many of my brethren, 13,987 of them, to be exact." i was tired enough, and this strange guy started telling me strange things. "in the past hour alone, you have killed 174 mosquitoes. that'll be a new record."
ah mosquitoes. so who is this guy? perhaps he might have an explanation why there were so many of them in my room. maybe he'd know why there were mosquitoes, such a vile little pest that is always up to no good.
suddenly this guy lunged at me, and sank his fangs into my neck. instantly i felt my vitality waning, and i was unable to push him away. in a few minutes i was sucked dry, bringing a sour ending to my futile life.
the next day, as my dry corpse laid on my bedroom floor, a little noise was heard. the attention is brought to my sunken eyes, where a small crack appears on my eyeball. out of the crack a dozen mosquitoes fly out of the body, out of the room, in search of the next lonely victim.
