…More Than Sweet Potatoes

Not All Living Things are Sacred

The other day I laughed as I committed a murder.

To be more specific, I laughed and high fived on Monday as I committed a murder.

And now, Wednesday night, two days later, I’m admitting it over a glass bottle of Sauvignon Blanc to anyone who wants to read about it.  I’m trusting you here.  You’re trustworthy right?  What could go wrong when admitting to an act of crime on the internet?


Let’s backtrack a bit, shall we?

Sunday evening, after a day of pool, puppies, sparkling wine and spending time with a friend, I came home to video chat with my mom and then my two best friends.  After that ended, I got ready for bed, prepped my running clothes and quick breakfast for the morning, took Gizmo for a last pee pee and climbed into bed.

That’s when it happened.

I was attacked.

I was bitten.  I was bruised.  I was taken advantage of.

Or at least that’s what I think happened.

Concerned yet?

Confused yet?!

A rogue blood sucker got into my 800 square feet of personal rented space and took advantage of me in my sleep.


And I’ll be damned if I let a mosquito ruin my good night’s sleep like that ever again.  I went to bed with no mosquito bites and woke up with 11.  And that is NOT an exaggeration.  So I decided to take action.  Mr. Mosquito wasn’t invited into my apartment.  He slid in somehow in a moment of happy opportunity for him, he set up camp and he assaulted me.  And do you know what happens to uninvited assailants in my world?

They die.

A plan was hatched while at work on Monday.  After work I went by the local hardware store and purchased the top-of-the-line, indoor/outdoor, bug zapper with some sort of chemical lure.  When I got home, I took it out of the box and immediately charged it to its fullest potential, unwrapped the lure, put it in the storage box, and prepared for mosquito domination.

After I went to dinner and trivia with my former roommate – Amanda – her boyfriend – Jared – and The Owl (who will one day be explained, probably), we came back to my place to commit murder.

I unplugged the now-charged bug zapper, read the instructions, and chose the UV light setting.  I turned the switch to on, and we sat on the bed staring at the machine.  It was glowing purple.  The only way I  can describe the light it was giving off is blacklight.  It was basically a black light.  It made the white paint in my paintings glow.  It made the pattern in my duvet cover shimmer.

And it lured Fucker McFucking ‘Skeeto right the fuck on in.

Two minutes after turning the switch to “on,” we heard it:


It was over.

No longer would I be drained of blood while I slept soundly.

No longer would I wake up with welts the size of half-dollars – yes, I’m actually allergic to the venom of mosquitoes.  Instead of a raised bump, I get large welts that grow in size, breaking capillary after capillary until I bruise and ache from all the swelling.  And no, none of the anti-itch creams works.  Nothing oral works (giggity.)  Basically, name a remedy and I’ve tried it.  The best is to microwave a damp towel for 30 seconds and press the steaming compress to the welt to try to draw out the venom while simultaneously killing the nerve endings causing the itch.  It’s probably not the safest method, and it hurts like a mother trucker, but it is mildly effective.  Get out of here with your “put an x in it with your nail” or “benadryl” or “after bite” or “ice” or “ibuprofen” or “alcohol wipes.”  None of it works, so just shut up.

Okay, so I took a little divergent turn there, didn’t I?

'I'm sure there's a lesson here somewhere, but I don't know what it is. Oh well...let's go up to that cool light.'

Anyway, so BuzzaaAAAPPP! happened and a diabolical grin spread over my face.  I giggled.  The Owl giggled.  We couldn’t stop.  We got him.  In two minutes.  It was an assailant, but it was a fucking moron and couldn’t resist the lure and the glow.  We stopped laughing long enough to glance back and forth between the zapper and each other.  Then we high fived.

The plan had worked.

Rather easily at that.

Let this be a lesson to all the mosquitoes in all the land.  You don’t belong in my home.  If you trespass – regardless of whether or not you attack me – you will regret it and you WILL die.

Hello, my name is Debbie, and I’m a murder.  How do I sleep at night?  Soundly:  The deep slumber of a woman who is not getting assaulted by a tiny insect Dracula.


As SOON as I said “deep slumber” I could think of nothing else…

(somehow this story seemed like it’d be longer when I started this bottle of Sauvignon Blanc… and also better… whatever.  Enjoy!)

3 comments on “Not All Living Things are Sacred

  1. Spoken Like A True Nut
    May 14, 2015

    I need one of these. Mosquito season is quickly approaching and damned if the little bastards don’t always ignore my husband and go right for me.


  2. Paul
    May 14, 2015

    Nice touch putting a picture of Jessica Fletcher in this post!


  3. markbialczak
    May 14, 2015

    You want me on your jury, Debbie. I vote to acquit. Zap or splat to all biters and bloodsuckers of the world. Scratchers of the world unite!


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This entry was posted on May 14, 2015 by in 2015, alcohol, blood, learning about me and tagged , , , , , , , .
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