In the last few weeks, I’ve been kept awake by a multitude of marauding mosquitoes. They suck so much of my blood I’m always surprised to find I’m alive in the morning, and that the mosquitoes still look so tiny when they should have the most bulbous of bellies.
But, despite this nasty, nightly feasting, I can’t help feeling sorry for Morris the Bathroom Mosquito.
Don’t get me wrong; I hate the little buggers as much as anyone. As concrete proof of this, here is a poem a teenage version of me, driven half insane with fury, wrote in the middle of the night on a holiday in Wales with my friend, Sophie.
The poem goes like this (it’s not going to win any literary prizes, that’s for sure :-D) :
And for further proof, here is another excerpt from the same holiday diary.
But, even so, I still can’t help but feel sorry for Morris the Bathroom Mosquito…
Every time I go in, I’m quick about it. I don’t hang around in the bathroom like I do in the lounge or bedroom. It’s a place for hurrying – if you take too long, the rest of the family get cross. So it’s a quick up and down to the toilet, or a speedy jump in the shower before someone sabotages the hot water flow by washing-up in the kitchen.
And every time I’m in there, Morris the Bathroom Mosquito does his very best to get to me in time. To grab a micro-sip of blood or two before I can get away. But he never quite makes it. His buzzing noise sounds weak and broken. He limps through the air like a helicopter with engine trouble. Little Morris is fading away before my eyes.
So next time, I might just put aside my well-documented hatred of mosquitoes, roll up a sleeve, and save a starving mosquito called Morris.
And here is the lesson for the day: YOU SHOULD NEVER NAME A MOSQUITO
Photo Credit: Jimmy Chan – Pexels
Jo Danilo | Writer 
hello Jo Bracket
Sorry to say (and I really am!) that it ain’t (that is, isn’t) a mosquito. It’s a daddy longlegs. Not known to bite (they’re attracted to the light), just very buzzy and annoying! Just finished Blackwood, and I loved it (really!). Malcolm
LikeLike
Ha ha! It was definitely a mosquito, Malcolm – tiny little thing with a gigantic buzz – but the picture might not be (stock photo). I have been pulled up for giving it a boys name though as apparently it’s only the ladies that bite! So glad you liked Blackwood (really!). Be great to have a wee review on my Blackwood page if you get a mo. I’m shocking for not sorting out my other book for you, but I have changed the release date, so will get onto it!!! Jo xxx
LikeLike
This needs a ‘love’ button. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Aah thank you! Xxx😜
LikeLiked by 1 person
Bzzzzzzzzzzz! It’s one of my annoyances since moving to NZ that we can’t enjoy the garden more cos of the little blighters. We have one of those Raid sprayer things on the stairs which seems to keep the whole house clear of them though (hooray!)…but venture out and have the foolish inclination to stay still and you’re dinner! In the words of S Club 7…don’t stop movin’. 😄
LikeLiked by 1 person
Completely agree. They are way too loud for their tiny size. It gets to the point where you start really looking forward to winter, and how un-English is that?!
LikeLike
Haha! 😄 I don’t think I’d go quite that far…I hate the wet winters here (more than the mosquitoes) where it’s colder inside than out. Crazy place.
LikeLike
Oh for central heating!
LikeLike
You said it, but I’d settle for insulation and double glazing…I don’t think you’d need the heating then…especially in your neck of the woods.
LikeLike
I dunno – have had to wear a woolly hat to bed a few times here! 😀
LikeLike
Me too. And socks. I’m not allowed near the missus with my icy feet.
LikeLike
And quite right too! 😀
LikeLiked by 1 person