God and I

I had a conversation with God a few nights ago.

Mind you, it wasn’t really a conversation. It was a monologue.

I was telling God that He had possibly missed the plot when He created mosquitoes. Of course, my monologue wasn’t of a completely negative tone. Nature, in general, I mentioned to Him, was a particularly spectacular idea. And He deserved all praise and congratulations for a fine, wonderful result; particularly in the short amount of time that He did it in.

But what’s up with mosquitoes? Why and wherefore?

Could He not have ordered all mosquitoes down into the pit of hell together with Lucifer, when He had the chance? We all know that mosquitoes are attracted to heat. He could have done them all a favour.

Sparing no detail, and as I could no longer sleep, I explained to God the hours of unnecessary discomfort I had suffered – that very night – from a single mosquito bite.

I even showed Him. Look. See. Right here, on my finger – the bit where the skin stops and the nail starts. I had to explain that I was not of course pointing at Him, but simply showing him where on my person the offence had occurred.

What on earth possessed the mosquito to do that, I enquired of God, rather exasperated?

What a cruel, heartless bastard of a creature.

Not only can you not effectively scratch in that place, but, surely, there is no blood there, either. After I apologised for saying “cruel, heartless bastard” to God in conversation, I suggested, that in light of it’s cruel behaviour, that He completely banish mosquitoes from the planet.

Well, perhaps, I admitted to God, I was being a bit hasty. Not all the mosquitoes in the world, but perhaps just the one bloody mosquito that was somewhere in my apartment, buzzing about looking for pointless places to bite me on.

I apologised to God for saying “bloody” in conversation, and then decided to assist Him in ridding the pest from the planet.

I was gong to annihilate the creature. That is, squash every last amount of life out of it’s small, squashable body. With a great deal of resolute satisfaction. Greenpeace, PETA and tree-huggers can kiss my bum (I don’t think God minded that I used that word).

I became a stalking predator. Listening out for the buzz. There it was – zummffming about – past my head. It landed, and I spotted it’s landing place. Crouching, I went for it… but it saw me and flew off again!

Never letting up, I followed. It landed on the wall above the flower pot. But this time I tried to fool the mosquito into thinking I was heading for somewhere else other than it’s own position. It worked! I thwacked it hard and good.

Death was imminent. As was a broken flower pot; a needless waste that could have been spared, I subtly mentioned to God.

Although God did not directly answer that night, I have since been presented with somewhat of a solution. You see, I have since discovered the wonder of a window. And the fantastical thing it does when it is shut.

I do believe in miracles. Thank you, God.