Mighty Malarian Mosquitos

If a mosquito knew a place called Malaria Island, where maybe many beautiful girls called Myra (the Latin name for Wonderful!) lived and bounced around, naked on the beaches, I bet they'd run away from swamps and forests and start their own little camp up there. Barbed wire round the vicinity, passport control, you know the drill. It would be unfair cus you'd so want to go and visit this idyllic location but of course, it would be at a cost. Your own LIFE!!! Me, personally, I waged war on mosquitoes this summer. They seemed to enjoy waking me up between the hours of 1 and 4 in the morning, just in that horrible hour where you've just fallen asleep and you don't wanna be woken for anything in the world... oh, actually, unless it's a program on the discovery channel about Malaria Island of course. And so it was on plentiful an occasion that I came up against these terrible beasts in the past few months. It all started in a peaceful place called "my bedroom". It's like a “me” version of Malaria Island. Lots of love and happiness was felt there... until. My first confrontation was with the one they called Marshall (which actually means Horse Groomer in Old English). This one ended with me splattering him to the ceiling with my guitar case. That particular bout was timed at approximately 37 minutes. A few days later and his girlfriend Martina (which is Latin for Warlike!) met a similar fate when she dared to cross my path. The nerve of her appearance was incredible. It was dusk and the day was hot. I was in the bathroom and she buzzed around my face, making me slap myself on a few occasions. How do they do this? Where do they get the power from? I know of no other beast that brings this out of you! It's Crazy. Initially she flittered with the wall. I tried to redecorate the tiles with a new tone of burgundy, but she skipped away, merry as anything, in behind the mirror. Alas, there was little chance for her now. The mirror in our bathroom hangs by a chain on a hook (obviously designed by a fellow mosquito-hater like myself) and there was little room for her there. My experienced hands, now hard from the constant slapping about, squished the little tyke to the back of the mirror. She was still partly alive when I laughed out loud as I flushed her down the toilet!!! From that day, the word in Malaria Island obviously got out. The death of Martina was a warning to them and they took it. Still, for some reason, that didn't stop her sister, Mabel (Latin for Amiable!) from dropping by. Initially, she was like this little flirt. Just messin around and playing, but I knew she was here to avenge her sister so I showed a black and white newspaper what its like to have a splattered miji on it! Right on a photo of Matt Damon! It was great! Double Whammy! After that, I think they must have held a meeting on Malaria Island and deemed my existence to be a danger to all the mosquitoes of the world. A war on Jason was commenced. Little did they know I'd already started mine on them earlier in this very story! My worse time this summer, was when I went out to my cousin, Suami’s house. He lives out in the middle of the woods, far from other human aid. It was there, at the Battle of Malveira, that I stamped my authority of the Mosquito race and sent them a message not to take me lightly. These particular cowards, once again, attacked me in the night. And what's worse, I was sleeping in the library. Books on all the walls meant easy hiding places for the evil blood sucking monsters that they are. Miji Maggie (Greek for Pearl), Midget Mackenzie ("son of wise ruler" in Gaelic), Mozzy Murray (celtic for sea-man! hehe) and the terrible Mad Mitzu Michael himself (meaning "who is like god" in Hebrew) (although, obviously not quite!), swarmed in on me with no fore-warning. The fight was long and hard and many litres of blood were spilt on the battlefield that fateful night. It was on that day that I decided to take the war to them. On the 30th of November, for some strange reason, I've decided to go to Thailand for a month, where some of the most dangerous mosquitoes live and fight it out with other mosquito tribes! Their war paint blatant for all to see and their flight paths are still too unpredictable for humans to read. Some time in late December, think of me, as I travel to the border of Cambodia to hunt out the most evil ones of them all. I'm doing everything to protect myself. I even let an 80 year-old man jab me in the bum and in my arm with some bizarre liquids that I hope will make me strong and impenetrable. I will take pills too and protect myself with extra clothing and a spray that will coat my body, slickly and seductively. Hold back though ladies, for I do this in the name of death and not love! The other day I killed a mosquito without even looking at it, in mid air, Karate Kid style (only without the chopsticks). It was an amazing feeling and I think I've found my calling in life. I know now, more than ever, that I am ready for the challenge and although this trip will be filled with perilous moments, I shall succeed in my mission to execute as many of these little horrors as possible, making the world a safer and more enjoyable place to live. I love you all.

Jason ("God is my Saviour" in Hebrew! bet you didn't know that one, eh! Hehehe! ;-) )