Mosquitoes love me. They don’t mind that I’ve gained a few pounds since the birth of my second child; they don’t notice the bags under my eyes. To mosquitoes, I am the hottest piece of ass since Marilyn Monroe. My sweet scent draws them in and they succumb to the irresistible lure of my blood.
So it is that I have been waking in the middle of the night with wild, maddening itches that cannot be satisfied, having been devoured while I slept by those infernal bugs. I was telling Primo about it, and he, dear soul, devised a plan to stop them.
“The first thing you will need to do it get a booboo because I have a lot of booboos and mosquitoes never bite me. Then we will take some of the blood from that booboo and put in a net, or maybe a cup, yes that’s better, because the blood might leak through the net, so we will put it in a cup and then I will have to get an almost-invisible top to put on the cup which is really a trap. Spiders spin webs which are almost-invisible with their silk and so maybe I could get a spider to do it because, you know, I speak spider language. Spiders speak the same language as us except that they are so small you cannot hear them. So I will ask a spider to spin the almost-invisible top and then we will put your blood in there and the mosquito will be attracted to it like how a bee is attracted to honey and then BAM! We will close the top and he will be stuck! Then we will dig a hole and put the mosquito and the blood in the hole because you know mosquitoes will never be able to dig out of the deep dirt and we will call the invention Bugbusters. {Pause for breath] It’s a little bit complicated Mommy, maybe I should tell it to you again.”
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