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Why Don't Mosquitoes Understand That You're In The Toilet, Brushing Your Teeth At Two A.M. And All You Want Is A Little Peace And Quiet Before You Put The Mat On And Go To Bed?


Sally was a mosquito.

Now, that's not to say that she was a bad gal; she was just a mosquito. Not a very special mosquito actually -- just a plain, everyday mosquito. She had always been a mosquito. All she knew was how to be a mosquito. She was born, very much like the rest of us, as she had always been. She hadn't asked to be a mosquito -- any more than a cow had asked to be a cow, or an insurance salesman had asked to be an insurance salesman. But, no matter what anyone said, or did, or thought, one thing remained the same: Sally was a mosquito.


Now, I know that among humans, Sally and her kind are not very welcome. With swarms of people plotting the end of her race, and many more involved actively in realizing it, Sally was born into a hostile world.

She had learned, at an early age, to run from the Swatting Thing, and stay away from the Flying Liquid Things, and not to enter when the Deadly Smoke was there. These were taught to every mosquito, and those who learned early survived. The others; well, the good mosquitoes went to mosquito heaven, and the bad mosquitoes went to mosquito hell.

Every mosquito dreamed of going to mosquito heaven when their time came. It was rumored to be a place of endless beauty and joy. It was full of the Large Food Things Which Moved -- the kind with the two Swatting Things who sprayed the millions of Flying Liquid Things and released the Deadly Smoke. But in mosquito heaven, the Swatting Things did not swat, and there were no Flying Liquid Things or Deadly Smoke. For the bad mosquitoes who went mosquito hell, there were only Swatting Things and Flying Liquid Things and Deadly Smoke. Every mosquito feared mosquito hell.

Sally was a particularly religious mosquito. This is not to say that most mosquitoes were not religious, for they were, but it always seemed that Sally dreamed of mosquito heaven, and feared mosquito hell more than any of the other mosquitoes ever did.

She was a hard worker. Coming from a line of hard working mosquitoes, she was always on the hunt; never tiring of chasing the Large Food Things Which Moved, and always dodging the Swatting Things. Once, she had been forced to enter some Deadly Smoke, but luckily she had escaped with minor injuries. She couldn't remember the whole affair, for apparently she had passed out while trying to make it home. Everyone thought that she was a lucky mosquito.

Sally was never a very clever mosquito. But then again, no mosquito ever was very clever. After all, when you're a mosquito, you do what a mosquito is supposed to do, and not much else. You eat, drink, bare little mosquitoes, and eventually, die. No mosquito could ever be stated to have made it big in the business world, or indulged successfully in the arts; but then again, no mosquito had ever had time to -- what with the Swatting Things and the Flying Liquid Things and the Deadly Smoke, who would?

Though mosquitoes are not very clever, they are undeniably great philosophers. Some dream of utopian lands were the food, which they now have to stake their lives for every day, is served to them in Fast Food Restaurants, and Take Away Shops; where they have a choice of Italian, French and Asian. Where all around is The Breeding Liquid, and where mosquitoes are the only rulers. Others tell of great mosquito kingdoms, and legends have been drawn up about heroic mosquito kings and knights. And yet others conjure images of vast mosquito democracies with mosquito politicians and mosquito presidents. Mosquitoes are great philosophers.

Sally didn't really believe in philosophy. She thought of herself as more of a realistic mosquito. But the truth was that she believed so fully in her religion that she knew she would eventually rest in mosquito heaven; so she didn't need a vision of an earthly utopia -- she knew hers' was waiting for her elsewhere.


It came to pass that on one dark night, when Sally was out hunting as usual, she miscalculated her timing and ended up as a stain on somebody's bathroom wall. It was a fitting end for a mosquito; she had died honorably. Being slain by one of the Swatting Things was considered the highest honor in mosquito society. It showed that a mosquito had died fighting. Death by the Flying Liquid Things ranked second in class, and that by the Deadly Smoke, although considered to be a dumb act by most mosquitoes, ranked third. Death by old age was not very common among mosquitoes -- but city mosquitoes had always heard stories of such happenings among the farm mosquitoes. Still, they were all regarded as myths, and no respectable city mosquito would ever admit publicly to believing in them. It had never happened in Sally's group, and if it had, the mosquito in question would surely have been regarded with an honor higher than that for death by the Swatting Things.

So, where is Sally now? She's in mosquito heaven, of course. Feasting on the Large Food Things Which Moved, and relaxing in the cool, damp heaven air; without fear of the Swatting Things and the Flying Liquid Things and the Deadly Smoke. Her days there are full; she can be found chatting with the other dead mosquitoes and indulging in deep philosophical debate. She's even found the time to develop a fine understanding of art, and taken a particular interest in music. Without time dragging at her feet, she is free to do anything and everything she had ever wanted, and more.


The stain has long been wiped off the bathroom wall, and poor Sally's lifeless remains turned to dust -- but if ever you should pass by mosquito heaven, there you'll see her, playing her little mosquito harp, with her frail little mosquito wings, high upon a mosquito cloud.

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