a story for kids

 

I opened my eyes and on the pillow next to me was a mosquito.

“Was that you that talked?” I asked.

“Yep! What is your name?”

I sat up in my bed. I couldn’t believe what was happening. A talking mosquito! Did you ever wonder what mosquitos think of themselves? I was about to find out, and trust me, it’s weird.

“I’m Gordon,” I said, pretending not to be freaked out.

“We only have a few moments before your parents get home, so I’m afraid I must get straight to the point,” said the mosquito. “My name is Clyraina. I am an emissary of mosquito-kind. I have been watching you for most of my life–eight days. I believe you may be the best hope my species has of communicating with Gigantuans.”

“What are Gigantuans?”

“You. That’s what we call you bizarrely large creatures.”

I had never been called large before. I’m the shortest and skinniest kid in the whole Fifth Grade.

Clyraina continued:

“We’ve tried to communicate with Gigantuans before, but we’ve not been successful. Many brave emissaries have been sent on missions of peace. Most never return.”

“Why not?”

“We think you keep smashing them.”

“Oh,” I said. In fact, I’ve smashed a mosquito or two in my time.

“But we never give up hope!” Clyraina’s thorax puffed up with pride. “Some mosquitoes say you Gigantuans are too warlike and unintelligent to make peace. I say in reply to these mosquitoes, ‘They may be thickheaded brutes, but we must not give in to hatred!’ And so we forgive. We know that if we choose to hate, then we’re no better than you big dumb Gigantuans.”

“Wait,” I said. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but we humans–er, I mean Gigantuans–think you’re just pests.”

“Pests! But mosquitoes are the sweetest creatures on the planet. Don’t you know we pollinate plants? We are the bringers of life.”

“But you suck blood!”

“Only our females do. Males don’t even have a proboscis, or didn’t you notice?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“And okay, yes, we might suck a trivial amount of your blood. But we have good reason. We use your blood for nutrients our eggs need to develop properly. Surely you can’t blame a mother for caring for her young?”

“I guess not.” She was beginning to convince me.

“We’ve learned that you Gigantuans kill for food even when you have other options. That’s barbaric! When we take blood, we’re so gentle that many times you never even notice. And we never kill.”

Clyraina made a strong case.

(I didn’t realize at the time that what she said about mosquitoes never killing was a lie.)

“Follow me,” said Clyraina. “I want to show you something.”

She flew in loops in front of my face until I got out of bed and followed her. She led me out of my room and into the kitchen.

It was full of mosquitoes. They covered every surface–the counters, the sink, the cupboards, the refrigerator.

“This is my tribe,” she said. “Although we mosquitoes are such advanced creatures, much better in every way than you Gigantuans, we still want to be friends with you. That’s how noble we are. You could never be our equals, of course. But we think you are intelligent enough to follow basic commands.”

“You want us to be your slaves?”

“No. More like our circus animals. Gordon, you could be the first one. What do you say?”

My parents have instilled in me the importance of self-respect. I did what any self-respecting human being would do in this situation. I yelled, “Sure thing! Sounds fun!”

This is why I haven’t turned in my math homework. The mosquitoes have been keeping me up late every night this week, teaching me to balance a ball on my nose.

Now, here’s a fun fact I read just today in the school library:

When some types of mosquito draw blood, they spread diseases like malaria, dengue, Zika, and West Nile virus, killing two to three million people each year. That makes mosquitoes the deadliest wild animals on the planet, deadlier than bears, vipers, tigers, rogue circus elephants, sharks, scorpions, wolves, rabid bats, rattlesnakes, black widow spiders, and poisonous frogs combined.

So, my dear Mrs. Matsunaga, maybe you should just write down in your grade book that I got straight A’s.

I’m just saying that we don’t want the mosquitoes to get angry.

Sincerely,

Gordon Hill

a story for kids

“Would you like to borrow my un-brella?” said Lucy, stepping next to Foggerty under the eaves of the schoolhouse. “It might improve your recess experience.”

“You mean umbrella,” said Foggerty, pushing his glasses higher up on his nose as he looked down at his toes. Drops of water ran down the thick lenses.

“Nope,” said Lucy. “An umbrella will only keep rain off you. Boring! An un-brella is much better. It’s just as fashionable as a regular umbrella, but it channels the water onto your head to help wash your hair. That’s two uses in one.”

Foggerty wasn’t sure what to make of the new girl. The other kids at school usually didn’t talk to him. That was because he was shy and he didn’t like looking into people’s eyes, which made it hard to make friends. At recess he usually climbed on the monkey bars all by himself. This new girl didn’t yet know he was the class reject.

“So do you want it?” asked Lucy.

“It looks like it’s just an umbrella that leaks,” said Foggerty.

Lucy snorted. “Don’t be silly. I cut those holes myself. They’re in just the right place so that the water drips only onto my hair. I’m a scientist, so I’m very precise about such things.”

Indeed, Lucy’s curly brown hair was wet as a mop, but the rest of her was dry.

She handed Foggerty her un-brella.

“If I borrow it, what will you use?”

“This.”

She pulled a small green cloth from her jeans pocket.

“It’s a de-un-brella,” she said, laying it over the top of her hair. “It does the exact opposite. It keeps your hair dry while allowing the rest of you to get soaked. It only works for a few minutes, though. Water eventually gets through it.”

“Maybe you should try plastic.”

“How come you’re looking at the ground so hard? I’m over here, not down there. Are you some kind of freakball?”

Foggerty didn’t know what that was but it sounded bad. He shrugged.

“I hope you are one,” continued Lucy, “because I’m a freakball, and I’m looking for more. No offense to the un- freakballs, of course, but freakballs are more interesting. So are you one?”

Foggerty thought about it.

“I guess I’m a de-un-freakball.”

A smile crossed Lucy’s face.

“Perfect! I’ve always wanted to meet a de-un-freakball. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Lucy put out her hand for Foggerty to shake. He thought maybe she was making fun of him, but finally he shook it.

Lucy said, “Do you want to try my newest invention? It’s an anti-de-un-brella.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s where we run straight out into the rain and just let it get us wet, our hair and clothes and all. Come on, I’ll show you.”

She grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and pulled him out from under the eaves. They ran to the monkey bars and climbed them together, and they didn’t mind the rain.