Undecent

The mosquitoes have officially breached the line of all decency in the war between themselves and Mindy-kind. My original plan was to spend this post sharing the comical and ultimately pointless details of my small group (comprised mostly of folks aged 50 or so) sitting around in lawn chairs while batting a pink rubber kids ball at each other, celebrating a national holiday (happy 4^th, by the way). I can proudly tell you that I clocked my uncle Gene several times. But the mosquitoes!

First, they attacked in their usual swarm. Even with bug spray I ended up with about a dozen bites by the end of the evening. One even had the audacity to try for my neck. It must have had delusions of grandeur and figured that it was really a vampire. It needed to be reminded of its heritage, so I gave it a good slap.

The true violation, however, was an attack from the rear. Literally. I had just sat down in a lawn to chair to watch some very fabulous – and rather illegal, but who in Ohio cares – fireworks, when I felt a pinch upon my bottom. Then the pinch began to itch and when I went to take I shower, I verified the fact that I had been viciously violated by a sneaky little skeeter. This is an assault upon the honor of our conflict! For years I’ve been the poor soul scratching at five bites while everyone else in my party gets off itch-free. My mom insists that it’s because I’m sweet, but I have no interest in being any skeeter’s sugar. What’s worse is that I know it’ll itch even worse tomorrow, like all mosquito bites inevitably do, and that I will parade around the house itching my bomming. At least I don’t have to go anywhere for the next day or so.

Remember, though, the next time you see someone scratching their rears in public, that they might have been violated by a mosquito too.