Mosquito Man

 My neighbor the vampire also gets dubbed “Mosquito Man.” In the summer, he obsesses about standing water. Mosquito Man hates blood-sucking mosquitoes and is well-schooled in their breeding habitats.

During the hot, muggy dog-days of July, I watch from my front porch as Mosquito Man visits every yard--up and down the street—to dump standing water from neglected bird baths, forgotten flower pots and other abandoned yard debris.

 Mosquito Man waves at me as I watch. He and I talk often enough that he holds complete faith in me. He believes I never let standing water collect anywhere long enough for a single set of mosquito parents to breed even one youngster. Sadly, that’s not so. It is usually Mosquito Man’s wave that prompts me to go check the spots where standing water gathers.

 My other neighbors—and we are a block that talks—brush off Mosquito Man’s vigilance as the mission of a man with too much time. I straddle their conversation. Mosquito Man is a bit overboard—but these neighbors, nice as they are, let standing water stand and then, the blood-biters breed.

Usually, by August, county spray trucks have run at least once through the neighborhood. I don’t ask my neighbors what they think as that invites discussion of “chemicals and what’s safe.” And I love chemistry. It is putting my children through school.

My neighbors—with the exception of Mosquito Man—don’t know beans about mosquitoes. I know that the mosquitoes that bite people--and most mosquitoes don't--inadvertently may spread diseases that kill people. Their blood meals are far worse than my neighborhood vampire's evening stroll. As he knocks out the competition, we all win.