BUZZ

At first I thought Tiffany was imagining the mosquito in our bedroom.

"He's back," she whispered one night, just as I was falling asleep.

"Hmm?"

I slurred my response, not willing to fully commit to whatever conversation she was initiating.

"He's back. The mosquito. Don't you hear him?"

I sighed. The Mysterious Mosquito again. She'd mentioned him a few nights before too.

"No, babe, I don't hear anything. I think maybe you're imagining him."

"No! He keeps buzzing right by my ear. Last night he bit me."

I rolled over, taking most of the covers with me as I have a tendency to do. Tiffany didn't even notice.

"I don't think San Francisco even has mosquitos," I said. "Didn't we read that somewhere... HOLYSH*TWHATWASTHAT?"

I sat up as fast as I could, swatting at the side of my head.

"Did you hear him?"

"Hear him? He's like a buzz saw. How big is he?"

I turned on my light just in time to see the mosquito pass in front of Tiffany's ear.

"Watch out!" I yelled.

Tiffany and I disagree about how to kill bugs. I prefer that someone else kill them, but, when that is not possible, I like to smush them with a thick wad of paper towels so I know exactly how dead they are and-most important-where they are. Tiffany is less precise. She throws shoes, swats with magazines and flicks dish towels.

While we debated how to proceed, The Mysterious Mosquito eluded us. Kneeling on our bed with our hands outstretched, we caught sight of our silhouettes on the wall and burst out laughing.

But as soon as I turned out the light, the mosquito got the last laugh:

"BUZZ."