THE MOSQUITO LADY

 

mosquito

Once upon a night, I passed in a friend’s place; despite my lifelong habit of wearing jean trousers to sleep, hoping I get selected to model for Calvin Klein in my dreams with all the poses I sleep in, by morning my feet itched from plenty mosquito bites.

Tired of scratching them, I exclaimed loudly, “Damn! You could have flit here last night. See all these mosquito bites on me.” Saying that I shook my head sadly.

Surprisingly, instead of her to show a bit of concern, she laughed loudly and said, “Oh, Pretty Stan it’s because you are a visitor.”

Puzzled, I asked why and she said “My mosquitoes don’t bite me. Last night you were sleeping, I saw them buzzing and when one didn’t recognise me and wanted to bite me, their eldest sister told them “Noo! Leave Mama alone. Bite the man snoring like a bird.”

I shook my head in disbelief at what I just heard whilst she kept laughing. Eventually, I told her, “Next time you’ll come to my house and I let my dogs out to shred you, hope you won’t say I’m wicked?”

“Ah!” She exclaimed, “So Stan someone can not play with you? You don’t want me coming to eat your goat meat stew again abi?”

I smirked satisfyingly, knowing I had put the fear of the Holy Ghost in her.

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