Flying blood sucking insects.
You’d struggle to think there’s anything positive about tiny buzzing things that spread Ross River Virus, aka the worst river of them all. And there isn’t. But my personal story about mosquitoes is filled with dizzying highs and chemical lows. Great heroes and terrible betrayals. And a naive young man who some call Patrick Lenton…
Like many young men of his generation, Patrick was vain and effete, worrying more about his looks than going to church or fighting on the western front. Yes, and Patrick was very worried about his skin, which suffered from terrible blemishes. So he started to take Roaccutane, a fearsome drug. After a month or two of looking like BUBOES the Bubonic Plague Mascot, his skin become a smooth and white as marble.
|Can’t wait to see them in the finals against The Black Death.
(Was that a sports joke?)
But there was a terrible side effect. Yes, he was beautiful, but the drug made him very, very sad.
So he stopped taking it, and went back to being blemishy and psychotically happy. But unknown to science or medicine, the drug gave Patrick a tiny super-human power. Mosquitoes were no longer interested in biting him. They hated the taste of his chemically-altered blood.
LACK OF STARS
We all know my difficulties with sleeping. We probably all know the horror of having a mosquito in the room while trying to sleep. I wear earplugs when I sleep to keep out the sound of trains and planes and screaming murder victims. Due to an oddity of SCIENCE when earplugs are on, they filter out every single sound EXCEPT the high pitch of a mosquito buzzing. Thus making them my arch-nemesis. It seems like an endless war – they can’t bite me, I can’t stop hearing them. But recently the stakes have shifted to the mosquitos side, with the terrible discovery that they can bite me. I woke up in the middle of a very hot night recently, to discover my chest and arms riddled with giant mosquito bites. I was itchy as all hell, and very depressed at the terrible turn this ancient rivalry had taken. I felt powerless. I felt un-special. My one minor super power had worn off.
|I’m sure they’re lovely individuals,
it’s just their blood sucking views that i’m against.
Then in the morning, I was completely unblemished. Not even a minor itch. I passed it off as heat-rash or heat-delusions or just Old Yeller getting one in while I was weak, until it happened again a few nights later, and this time I had witnesses! Turns out that while mosquitoes can now bite me, I can still resist their effects. The war is far from over.
|Yeah, mysterious marks that disappear the next night.
Dracula is such a mosquito wannabe.
My next counter-offensive is going to consist of me drinking a bucketload of gin, hopefully making my blood too alcoholic.