Mosquito

I don`t like mosquitos. I don`t like them more than I don`t like celery or egg, and that`s a lot because celery and egg are both revolting.

The feeling, unfortunately, is not mutual.

Last night I was very busy, writing and then immediately deleting lines from The Book and ultimately getting nowhere at all, when a mosquito plonked itself on my computer screen.

“Hi,” it said.
“Excuse me,” I answered: “could you move, please? You`re blocking my cursor.”
The mosquito kindly moved himself so that he was blocking the letter a in that instead.
“Are you here to bite me?” I asked him.
“Yes,” he said. “Of course.”
“Would you mind not? I`m allergic and I swell up and it hurts a lot.”
“Sorry,” the mosquito said: “but I`m hungry and you taste like tiramisu.”
“That`ll be all the coffee I drink,” I told him.
“Mocha!” a little voice from somewhere behind me yelled. “There`s lots of chocolate in there too.”
“Oh bloody hell,” I sighed, turning around and seeing nothing. “There`s two of you?”
“More than two,” the initial mosquito replied, matter of factly. “You left one of your fly screens open slightly.”
“Which one?”
“Well I`m not telling you that. You`ll just go and shut it.”
He had a point; I would just go and shut it.
“So you`re definitely going to bite me?” I asked him.
“Definitely. You`re delicious.”
“Then I`m going to have to kill you,” I said sadly. “Sorry about this. Could you move off my computer screen? I don`t want to get you all over my book.”
The mosquito politely flew to the wall, and waited. I lifted my hand and approached him slowly.
“I don`t want to do this,” I told him crossly. “But you`re going to bite me in the middle of the night and I`m going to itch and swell up for a week afterwards.”
“Yes,” he said. “I understand.”
I got a little closer.
“Why did you have to come in?” I asked him.
“Because I`m hungry and you`re delicious.”
“That makes sense I suppose.” I got a little closer. “I`m going to kill you now.”
“OK,” he said. “But let me just make one point: if I don`t bite you, I die. If I do bite you, you itch. It`s a small sacrifice for you, and a big one for me.”
I paused.
“I hate you,” I said.
“I adore you,” he said.
“Ugh.”
“You`re not going to kill me, are you.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Go on.”
“I am.”
“Do it.”
“I AM.”
And then without wanting to in the slightest I brought my hand away.
“I knew you weren`t going to do it,” the mosquito said happily, flying away. “People who taste like pudding never can. Too sweet.”
And then he disappeared into nothing as only mosquitos can.

Late last night, I woke up drowsily from my sleep with a buzzing in my ear.
“You`re going to do it now?” I asked him.
“Yes.”
"Promise to bite me once?"
"OK."
“OK.”
“I love you,” he reminded me. “Now, hold still.”

And this morning I was covered in bites.