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Think about the fields of blood, Mosquito. | Books From Hale

Think about the fields of blood, Mosquito.

by Brandon

So I was on the couch, watching TV, when I noticed a mosquito on the ceiling.

It was doing its mosquito thing, just flying around like a fighter pilot on acid, slamming into the ceiling, over and over and over.

“There’s the sky! OW! There’s the sky! Ow, shit, that hurt! Hey, there’s the sky! Son of a bitch! Hey there’s the sky!”

I can only assume mosquitoes have a 3 second memory-span.

Anyway, I watched the mosquito for a few seconds, then – because it’s a mosquito – I decided to kill it.

I first got a paper towel to just smash it against the wall, but the mosquito wouldn’t have that. He stayed on the ceiling, doing his smash-into-it thing. He was out of reach.

I went back to the kitchen, then returned with a broom. I followed him along the ceiling, then smashed the bristles toward him. Miss! This continued for about a minute. After 8 tries, the mosquito was still banging into the ceiling. I’m assuming by this point, his thinking had been slightly altered. “Is that the sky! Oh shit, it’s a giant mustache! Hey, the sky! Ow! Whoah, that mustache is attacking me!” I’m guessing mosquitoes know what a mustache is. They probably have legends about them. To mosquitoes, a mustache is like a giant, haunted forest. I’m guessing.

Anyway, attack 9 came along and it was a direct hit. The mosquito was gone. I expected to see its carcass on the ceiling, but nope. Nothing. I knew that meant the body was on the broom.

I was right.

The mosquito was on the end of the broom, impaled by its bristles of doom.

It was still alive.

Sort of. It sat there, staring at me with its mosquito eyes… Two legs were twitching; the rest weren’t moving at all. Its main body was impaled by at least three broom bristles.

Its eyes looked… sad. Betrayed. Of course, I could only actually see its eyes in my mind, but I understood immediately. It didn’t feel betrayed by me. It felt betrayed by the universe.

The universe had betrayed it.

Up to that point, the mosquito didn’t know the universe was dangerous. The world had been a playground, every 3 seconds, a whole new world to discover. A mosquito’s life-span is very short, but to that little guy, every moment was forever. It didn’t get bogged down by the past. Its brain physically lacked the ability. It didn’t have baggage. It didn’t fear the future. Its brain didn’t know the future even existed. Every moment was that mosquito’s entire life. And every new moment, a new life. Some lives were hungry. Some lives were full. And some lives were repetitive banging against the sky.

And as I watched his little legs twitch, I realized something sad.

For the mosquito, this moment… was pain.

And that meant its final life… its final eternity… was pain.

One second, total happiness… the next second… pain.

And that was why the mosquito felt betrayed by the universe.

It had lived hundreds of lifetimes, and it would have happily chosen any one of those lives to be the final life.

But no. Instead of giving it one of those lives, the universe gave it a lifetime of pain.

I knew what I had to do.

I pointed the mosquito away from me, and I began to tell him about the life he should have had…

I told him about the great blood-fields, where he and his friends could just fly around, drinking all the blood they wanted. There were blood pies. Blood pools. Blood baths. Blood sandwiches. Even blood General Tso’s chicken. And the mating going on… oh man. This is a PG-13 blog, so I’ll just leave it at that.

I tried to describe a mosquito paradise to the little guy. I wanted to make his last moment happy. I wanted to make his last eternity happy.

“Look at the fields of blood, mosquito,” I whispered. “This is your life. This is your… forever…”

Then I squished him with the paper towel.

In my defense, mosquitoes are gross. And they carry malaria or something. So really, it was self-defense.

Love you guys.

–Bran


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