Or should I say hated Mosquito, because I really do detest you from the bottom of my heart, the only place you haven’t infested with your god awful blood sucking trunk. I didn’t believe in violence before I met you, but you have awoken in me a spark of what I can only explain as a lust for killing. Mosquito slaughter. The pleasure I get from hearing the end to your annoying buzzing as I crush you into a speck of blood in the palm of my hands is euphoric. I only wish that you had some sense. All of you. That in your little mosquito world you had news broadcasting the utter stupidity of your pathetic mission in life and scare the shits out of you when yet another ‘mosquito death by human’ is announced. That your little pea brains would take the hint and realise that we ain’t afraid of you and we will KILL YOU.
I wish we could be friends, but you have made it impossible. Why can’t we sit down together and enjoy a cup of tea and some biscuits? Yes, I know why. Because while I’m minding my own business you are such a needy, attention seeking bastard and I don’t like it. Within a timeframe of 5 minutes you have made my life a living hell. You think it’s okay to start sucking on my prescious skin and on top of that invite your friends to do the same? You are a piece of work. Don’t you have any shame? Any consideration of the consequences of your actions? The unmistakable sensation of a slight prickling feeling that blows into a desperate scratching orgy of one as I bless the heavens that I stopped biting my nails. And then you have the nerve to do it again and again until you have victoriously achieved, what seems to be your mission, to make me suicidal. I curse and I scream and condemn myself to the devil for being so stupid as not to realise that diamonds are not a girls best friend, it is the wonder of mosquito repellent. Oh, you think that’s funny do you? That I have to buy mosquito repellent instead of diamonds to enhance my appearance? Well, f*** you. Not only am I denied the pleasure of diamonds, but because of you I will be homeless living on the streets of Léon because I’ve had to use all my savings on a freakin spray just so that I can cope in a world that I have to share with YOU. Not to mention that I most likely will get some sort of incurable disease due to inhaling to much of this shit.
So to you mister mosquito. I hope the day will soon come when your sorry excuse of a being will evaporate from this earth. And I can tell you this. Mosquitos don’t exist in heaven, only in hell – so have a good time burning into a crisp. I won’t be shedding no tears.