Mosquitoes

There are thousands of little mosquitoes lurking on my windows and the mesh - ready to pounce on me and gobble me up for lunch, dinner and breakfast. There aren't any inside the house (YET), but I can feel the itch creeping up on me. I want to scratch myself from tip to toe before going on a rampage and killing those assholes, who are making my life a living hell.

This summer, they attacked me at every opportunity they got, making me hallucinate at one point that I had to be infected with the West Nile Virus. Even when fully clothed in Taliban-style attire, they managed to wreak havoc on my skin, which breaks into hives when they attack me, leaving me with bumps the size of worthless American quarters. They find the weirdest places: my ankles, neck and elbows. They penetrate the thickest of Jeans and inject their venom into my thighs.

I am tired, fed up and exhausted of their constant unwarranted bombardments. I talk to my Canadian and American friends and they just laugh at me saying that North America's mosquitoes don't bother them. Those racist mosquitoes have a vendetta against this unarmed pacifist Arab - but I will stamp my feet today, go to Walmart and find the most lethal spray out there and massacre them at 3am in the morning.

The fuckers must DIE!