The crazy time happens just before dark.
Today, I’d been home from work for a little while, and I got another chance to do what’s become part of my routine since “coronavirus” and “quarantine” became parts of regular conversations.
I sit on the front porch in a rocking chair and read.
I cracked a new book open today, but I didn’t get through the prologue before it started.
It was the crazy time, when those crazy things come from who knows where and try to eat me alive.
Today, there were more crazy things than usual.
Let me explain.
When I rock and read, sometimes my eyes wander from the page and settle on the hummingbird feeder above the porch rail.
I’ve figured out if I listen hard enough, I can hear the hum a ways off.
The hummingbirds hum and hover for a while before they buzz off toward a tree branch.
It’s fun to watch, and you can watch for a while because those birds drink like fish.
I like to watch them drink, but I like to watch them fight more.
It’s quite a show, like two miniature fighter jets in a dogfight.
One of them just about dive bombed me today on its way to a swig of sweet nectar, and it seemed to be a harbinger of things to come.
The real crazy things appeared soon after and, as usual, tried to eat me alive.
I can hear them, too, sometimes.
I’m talking, of course, about mosquitoes.
I’ve started to think there’s something to the theory mosquitoes like a certain blood type best, and whichever type it is I’ve sure got it.
Those things ruin my rock and read time on a regular basis.
I used to ponder why God made them, but I’ve decided it’s one of those things I’m not meant to know this side of Heaven.
Jesus told a story about a beggar named Lazarus who died, and then the angels carried him to his eternal reward.
Since God has a sense of humor, I wouldn’t be surprised if He sent the mosquitoes to take me home when I breathe my last.
They may just be the reason I breathe my last, because they may drink me dry.
Today, I decided to confront the bloodthirsty crazy things.
I heard the soft, distant hum.
Every time they appeared, I sent them soaring backward on a current of my breath.
I admit, I took a measure of joy in it.
My eyes went back to my book.
The crazy thing waited until I was immersed in the prologue, and it flew around the back of the chair.
Then it caught me unawares and bit me on the side of the neck.
I can’t help but think the crazy vampire took a measure of joy in it.
I shut my book and went inside, defeated.
My neck itches like crazy.
The above story is my answer to Sue’s first prompt, which is “crazy.”