Eaten alive

The weather finally seems to have cooled down to a habitable temperature, which pleases me immensely. Not only can I go about my daily life without burning in the intense heat, but I can go to sleep, safe in the knowledge that I won’t be fed upon...

Sunday night. I’m lying in bed. Hot. Very hot. Then I hear a high pitched buzzing. A mosquito. I wasn’t willing to ignore it and go to sleep. If I did, I may as well garnish my body with relish and write ‘Bon appetite’ on my face. Besides which, I didn’t really want to risk catching malaria – a disease increasingly common amongst African football players. I had to get up and deal with it.

I turned the light on, but couldn’t find the little bugger anywhere. Then, from behind the door, the carnivorous insect flew straight towards me. Armed with a can of fly killer, I sprayed it. It was no more. I went back to bed. Moments later, as if from a horror film, it came back - this time, within touching distance of my face. I trapped it in the corner and unleashed half a can of Raid Insect Killer onto it. It lay dying on my bedside table buzzing around. That's when it got crushed.

Asta la vista, baby! MwaHaHaHa!