I’ve been having a bit of a tough week. Usually that happens when I’m tired or hungry or someone annoying won’t stop talking to me. Those things have happened, but this week has been hard because of one tiny, sneaky, very rude arachnid. Just one. I will name him Brody, because that sounds like the name of a really entitled jerk I would hate. Sorry if any one reading this is named Brody. I mean, sorry that your name is Brody.
So, this terrible arachnid named Brody happened to land on my shoulder sometime last week and, being a selfish tick, he bit me. I’d thought ticks like Brody mostly hung out in fields of tall grass and dense forests with other jerks named Preston and Brayden. Apparently, they also frequent popular city parks where some people like to walk on lovely afternoons. I was lucky enough to run into one such park dweller. Or, rather, have one run into me. I didn’t even notice because he was so obnoxiously stealthy about the whole thing.
I did finally see where his terrible miniature pincers had pierced my skin, but I assumed it was a mosquito bite. It wasn’t. I realized that after the tiny red ring around it became a larger red ring. Ok, I was still in denial at that point, but some friends who are smarter than me convinced me to see a medical professional.
When I got to the doctor, he told me I’d had the bad luck of running into Brody. Well, the doctor didn’t say Brody because he didn’t realize that was his name, but he did pull the arachnid’s head out of my shoulder. So, joke’s on you, Brody. I may have to take a bunch of drugs with really uncomfortable side effects and I may be suffering from the painful consequences of the bacteria you spread, but you’ve been decapitated by your selfish greed and now you’re dead. I took your head as my trophy to show Preston and Brayden what’s up.