Getting Into Heaven

A little while ago I heard the County mosquito sprayer go by slowly on my street. I didn't get up to look, but I know it by sound after all these years. Besides, I wouldn't want to step outside until it's long past. When I was a kid, we used to run behind the noisy bastard and suck up it's fumes as if was the only important thing in the world to be protected from mosquitoes. Mosquitoes, hell, I imagine it protected us from vampires and wolves! When I worked at Mosquito University, part of my duties as exterminator was to drive a tractor version of that sprayer around campus early in the morning. It was bad enough as it was when it drifted onto my skin instead of all blowing behind me like it was supposed to do, so I wore a half-face respirator while driving to keep from inhaling it. I'm not sure I did myself a bit of good, but I suppose I scared a few early risers who happened to notice my gear. God knows I killed billions of mosquitoes. Maybe I'll never get into heaven... Or maybe I'll get in first...

---