The Mosquito Mafia Chronicles
If
Goodfellas had wings and a proboscis.
Fairly recently, our life at the Wilderness RV Resort started spiraling out of control, and waking up the next morning became less of a routine and more of a pleasant surprise. Others in the park had already made a break for it, but we were delayed while transitioning from normal life into our meticulously crafted witness protection identities.
You wouldn’t be out of line to wonder why we are flying so far under the radar, and in hopes of helping some other of you from the same fate, I’ll share with you how we got where we are.
I’m talking about “The Mosquito Mafia”.
These aren’t your garden-variety skeeters. No sir, these are full-fledged mafiosi with wings. The outfit is run by none other than Don Buzzini, with his right-wing man, Tony “The Needle” Nibbler. Word on the street is their consigliere is an old-timer named Vinny “Vein-Tapper” Vasquez.
Don Buzzini is a hardened mafioso, skilled in his craft, and he’s enlisted a crew of no-see-ums to work the streets and handle the wet work. These little enforcers slip past screens and fly under the radar, dishing out hits you won’t feel ‘til the welts show up hours later. Real pros.
This faction, known as the “Swarm Squad”, has grown so bold that recently several big hitters hovered outside my window, locking eyes with me like wiseguys showing up for a little collection work. I blinked. They didn’t.
We’re in serious trouble here, folks, and AAA doesn’t cover mosquito shakedowns. And it gets worse. They’re now enforcing a five-bite minimum cover charge just to sit outside your coach! Rumor has it there’s a loyalty program too. The more skeeters you swat, the higher your
Most Wanted ranking climbs. One neighbor, speaking strictly off the record and under the veil of anonymity, reports they have him marked as Skeeter Enemy Number One. He told me they’ve made him an offer he can’t refuse, and I suspect full compliance is forthcoming.
So here’s the score: if you’re still at the park, and you are planning to BBQ tonight, forget the bug spray. These guys aren’t intimidated. Bring an uncovered limb, an O-positive sampler platter, maybe toss in a little ankle buffet for good measure. Play it safe and pay your tribute, otherwise, prepare to be swarmed like a marked man at a sit-down gone bad.
But I digress. I felt bold when I should have shown some respect. I stood up to the Don and let a few disrespectful remarks slip, remarks that quickly paved the road to my impending demise. Turns out, I’m not half the man I thought I was, and the Don is twice the skeeter he appears to be.
So now I’m on the lam, holed up inside, blinds drawn, bug zapper locked and loaded, bourbon in hand.
Stay safe out there. It’s open season, and we’re not the hunters.
