I hate mosquitoes. I mean, every life form has its right to live and die, but, please, not mosquitoes (and for that matter, no rats for me too). I lose my sleep over the last memories of having to defy the ever flying and ever buzzing little monsters throught the night. If only I could take revenge by buzzing around their uncovered ears while they slept (or, tried to sleep). But alas! Someday I'll end my existence on this planet with that one dream unfulfilled.
So, this friend of mine, newly moved into his 5th floor apartment was complaining about mosquitoes. The following conversation prevails:
"How come at such a height you find mosquitoes?""Aah, those bloody creatures are smart. They know where people live. I guess, by instinct.""Well, but can they fly to such heights?""You bet they can't. I found many of them taking the elevator to the fifth floor,""Haha, then, I must say they are born downstairs and brought up later!""Or it may be that their families are brought up first and then the next generation is born"