Last week we asked you to write a story about a bear or a story about a mosquito or a story about a bear and a mosquito. Or a story about “beasts you’d rather avoid.”
As it turns out, we got a bit of each.
Fist off, from Spencer:
I’m trying to avoid Beetle-Rattle because it can bite you and poison you. It looks kind of like a snake and it has two legs in the front and two legs in the back and it has a poisoned needle in the middle. It’s about the size of a suitcase and can be found three deserts away from us on the other side of Asia. If it tries to get you, to defend yourself, you just get a rock from outside and try to smoosh it. If it sucks some blood from your body it’s ok – you just have to go to the doctor and they will give you a shot.
All I can say is thank goodness Beetle-Rattle is “three deserts away.” Even two deserts away would be too close for my tastes. That said, I’m glad to know that, should the Beetle-Rattle manage to sneak its way over here and steal some of my blood, the doctors will be able to patch me up. Still…I think I’m heading west this afternoon in hopes of getting at least four deserts between me and BR.
From Tyler:
Once upon a time there was a mosquito. It was looking for friends and then it saw a bear. The mosquito said, “Do you want to play with me bear?” And the bear said, “Of course!” And they played and played and played, but then the bear squished the mosquito. Then another mosquito was looking for a friend. He saw the same bear and said, “Do you want to play with me?” And the bear said, “Yes,” and then he squished that mosquito. Then after that another mosquito was looking for a friend, too. He saw the bear and said, “Do you want to play with me?” And the bear said “Yes,” and the bear squished the mosquito. The end.
When Tyler’s story started out, I thought we were being treated to a nice allegory about race relations. But then things took a dark twist and I thought perhaps we were being treated to a nice allegory about the redemptive power of learning from one’s mistakes. But then the merciless bear crushed three mosquitoes in succession without consequence or remorse, and I learned that we were being treated to an unfiltered dose of reality.
From Joe:
One day, a little mosquito saw a big bear.
It was nice outside.
The mosquito really wanted someone to play with.
So he said to the bear: “Let’s play together and be friends!”
The Bear says: “…. Ok.”The mosquito flies around and the bear chased him.
They played “you can’t catch me.”
It was fun~But suddenly, the mosquito bite the bear…
“Ouch!” “Oops, sorry!”
The bear was angry: “Why did you bite me?!!”
The mosquito said: “Sorry, maybe I was hungry.”
The bear was still angry: “It’s not ok.”
The mosquito didn’t know what to say.The bear went away…
All the way to the other side of a tall mountain.
And the mosquito never saw him again.
And here is the picture Joe drew to go along with his story:
In a surprising inversion of Tyler’s tale, Joe paints the mosquito as the aggressor. Which, frankly, is a much more accurate read on the state of things on the tundra. Bears would rather keep to themselves and eat dead fish in the wee hours before we awake, whereas mosquitoes mount a relentless attack at every possible moment.
Which leads us to Kato’s story, which is short but powerful.
Kato:
The mosquito bit me on the butt.
Alas, this story is nonfiction. Kato’s butt was the target of a mosquito attack. It itched and it itched a lot.
Consequently, Kato took precautions, such as hiding and camouflage.
And comprehensive skin coverage.
August, who takes careful note of everything his brother does, followed suit.
These aggressive tactics did not entirely eliminate the mosquito threat. Bites (and itches) were delivered on hands, cheeks, necks, etc. But no more butts were harmed. No sir.