I was working in the yard the other day, taking care of business as it were. I was keeping to myself, not hurting anyone. It was peaceful and quiet, with a nice breeze coming, I believe, out of the northwest. The dew point was rising and my moon was rising in the house of Jupiter. It was a peaceful moment right out of a freakin' Hallmark card. It didn't last. Out of nowhere the attack began. The frustrating thing is that I didn't know what was happening until it was too late. An angry swarm of mosquitos came at me and devowered my succulent ankles. The itching was off-the-charts intense. I screamed out in my pain and my frustration. I hopped around scratching and grumbling like some sort of wack-job. Oh I am sure that the neighbors loved this scence and will be telling their grandchildren about it. Mosquitos and bugs in general really grind my gears. Who gave them the right to suck the blood right out of my body, right out of my body? Nasty, horrible, little critters. I seem to remember that when I was a youngin' that these wretching parasites would at least buzz past your ear first or dance around on your forearm like a dog spinning in circles several times before it finally settles down for a nap. This was a courtesy so that you could swat them flat before they could do their damage. My how times have changed. I am feasted on like a Christmas goose and I neither hear these wee beasties nor see them. Somehow they have changed up their attack strategies. Perhaps they have been studying the approaches and tactics of the great generals like Dwight Eisenhower, Douglas MacArthur, George Patton, and Bea Arthur. Well, two can play at that game my friend. Perhaps I will coat my body with an inch-thick layer of shellack - let's see the enemy penetrate that defense. Maybe I will only go outside armed with a flame thrower - burn baby burn. Alas, perhaps I will go find the bottle of calamine lotion.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Grind My Gears VI
I was working in the yard the other day, taking care of business as it were. I was keeping to myself, not hurting anyone. It was peaceful and quiet, with a nice breeze coming, I believe, out of the northwest. The dew point was rising and my moon was rising in the house of Jupiter. It was a peaceful moment right out of a freakin' Hallmark card. It didn't last. Out of nowhere the attack began. The frustrating thing is that I didn't know what was happening until it was too late. An angry swarm of mosquitos came at me and devowered my succulent ankles. The itching was off-the-charts intense. I screamed out in my pain and my frustration. I hopped around scratching and grumbling like some sort of wack-job. Oh I am sure that the neighbors loved this scence and will be telling their grandchildren about it. Mosquitos and bugs in general really grind my gears. Who gave them the right to suck the blood right out of my body, right out of my body? Nasty, horrible, little critters. I seem to remember that when I was a youngin' that these wretching parasites would at least buzz past your ear first or dance around on your forearm like a dog spinning in circles several times before it finally settles down for a nap. This was a courtesy so that you could swat them flat before they could do their damage. My how times have changed. I am feasted on like a Christmas goose and I neither hear these wee beasties nor see them. Somehow they have changed up their attack strategies. Perhaps they have been studying the approaches and tactics of the great generals like Dwight Eisenhower, Douglas MacArthur, George Patton, and Bea Arthur. Well, two can play at that game my friend. Perhaps I will coat my body with an inch-thick layer of shellack - let's see the enemy penetrate that defense. Maybe I will only go outside armed with a flame thrower - burn baby burn. Alas, perhaps I will go find the bottle of calamine lotion.
