Zzzzzz... buzz-snort... zzzzzz!
Down in the shallow, warm mud beneath the giant mangrove trees of World 31, a mountain of dog-sized Iron-Beaked Swamp Mosquitoes lay flat on their backs, snoring loudly and kicking their six hairy green legs in their sleep.
Every single one of them was completely drunk on Boom-Pot Sun’s Sweet-Spring Mint-Tea & Antidote Broth.
Up on the rope bridges of the treehouse village, Woodcutter Lin Shan and his neighbors leaned over the wooden railings, gripping their notched iron axes and wooden clubs with nervous hands.
“Brother Lin, should we climb down and smash their heads while they’re asleep?” a skinny young villager whispered, rubbing a big pink scar on his forearm where a swamp mosquito had bitten a chunk of flesh out of him the year before. “If those billions of blood-suckers wake up when the mint rain wears off, they’ll swarm right back up into the trees and eat us alive!”
“How can we smash them?” an old village grandmother sighed, shaking her head. “Have you forgotten how hard their shells are? Last month, four hunters hit an Iron-Beaked Mosquito with an iron wood-axe, and the axe blade chipped while the bug flew off with their pants! Even if they’re dizzy right now, it would take us ten years just to bury the ones around our village!”
