To the one single gnat that hovers like a stealth bomber waiting to strike the instant I open the door. The one that buzzes my face with the tenacity of a curious two-year-old during the ENTIRE HOUR of my evening walks - I need to know… what exactly IS your objective?
Let’s say I stopped blocking your incessant, undeterred, maddening attempts to enter my ears, eyes, nose, and mouth. What then? I want you to think about this.
The mouth is a non-starter. You wouldn’t make it past my upper esophagus, where the excessive amount of burning acid that has resided there since the moment of my birth would obliterate you in a nanosecond.
The ears. I mean, why? What’s in there for you? From what my doctor tells me - since I blocked her first and only attempt to water blast my eardrums with the force of a fire hose in the name of “cleaning them out” - you won’t get very far.
The eyes. Come on, now. Do you REALLY want to go there? I’m a 20+ year contact-wearing veteran. I can pluck a microscopic dust particle from my eye with surgical precision using one hand while the other is tied behind my back. You lose that battle every time.
So that leaves the nose. I suppose this one makes the most sense. It’s a relatively large target, after all. But I have opposable thumbs, tissues, and excellent lung capacity. Again – you lose.
Like so many of the human species, I don't think you really know what you want. I get that. But you are a formidable opponent, to be sure.
While I walk along these quiet, suburban streets, karate chopping the air and bobbing and weaving like I'm dodging an imaginary UFC champion, neighbors steer their children away from the windows and quickly snap the curtains shut as I pass by. And maybe that’s all you want after all.
I respect it, you sinister beast.