Imagine an NYC apartment in summer without air conditioning. Imagine if Michael Myers was a mosquito. Imagine being trapped in that non-air-con apartment with Michael Myers as a mosquito.

A few nights ago, a new "friend" decided to cohabitate in my bedroom and no, it was not my boyfriend. Now, I don't share well period, let alone my personal space, so having a roommate was not my idea of a good time. Particularly a roommate that bites me.

Making the executive decision that this would not nor could not stand, I closed my door and prepared for battle. Having been diligently trained by Thai mosquito warriors, I was ready. In Thailand, we fought dirty. Guerilla tactics of not only stealth ninja skill, but elaborate traps laced with electric current. Not having the proper weapons, I slipped on my sweat-suit armor, hood and all, and armed myself with a copy of Esquire, Clint Eastwood's edition, of course. I flicked off the lights. Lo and behold, the glow of my Macbook Pro was gloriously irresistible. I stood beside it. And waited.

Soon enough, the little intruder approached. It was done for. Or so I thought...

I pounced and missed it by the slightest tip of Mr. Eastwood's hair. Crap! Would it be tricked again? Ah! AGAIN! HE APPROACHES! FOOL! WHACK!

Silence... waiting...

I sit and wait again, unsure if I've made contact. I go to turn on the lights. Just as I do, I see it departing at eye-level... did it bite me?? I feel my face - nothing. I feel the right side of my neck - nothing. I feel the left side of my neck - itchiness. That bastard bit me on the neck!

Furiously, I leave the lights on this time. It's on now mosquito; you. are. toast.

There it is, there. it. is... Slowly I approach, wind up Clint Eastwood and prepare for impact.

WHACK! Contact is made and the body falls to the ground. Victory is mine!

I take off my hood and bend down with a Kleenex to give it the not-so-proper burial of a worthy opponent - but I look. and look. and look.

No carcass. Myers has vanished...

I consider using myself as bait, rolling up one pant leg and pulling my hood so tight that it leaves one tiny peep hole. Being that it hasn't shown itself for a good 20 minutes now, I quickly reject that idea and decide the coast is probably clear to attempt sleep. I leave my armor on and pull up the covers, Clint Eastwood at my side. I put a pillow on my face for good measure.

Just as I am drifting into a delightful sleep, I hear a buzz by my ear. Horrified, I jump up grab my pillow, my piggy blanket. Waving my white flag, I close my door and retreat to the couch.

Sayonara mosquito. You win.


The story you have just read is titled, "The Night an Insect Kicked Me Out of My Room". We hope you enjoyed it.


Notice to future visitors: we do indeed have an air-conditioning unit now.