NoSeeUms.
A.k.a. Biting Midges.
I had never heard of them, much less run into any until I moved to the subtropics. They, however, apparently know me well enough to recognize my inherent value as a meaty, freckly, nonstop, Vegas-style, gorge-'til-you-explode, insect buffet. I am covered with the results of their gnawing on my flesh. I look like I got in a fight with an icepick-wielding madman, like my body is the arena for the Insectival Olympics. This is ridiculous. Everyone who's seen my legs recoils, to one degree or another, in some shock, some disgust. The NoSeeUms win the gold for Prolificity; Mosquitoes take the silver in Amount of Damage Inflicted with a Single Bite.
The concensus is that I am allergic to whatever filthy, disgusting, virulent plague these barely-visible parasites carry within their miniscule bodies. Most people, when bitten, host small bumps that annoy for a few hours, maybe an entire day; I break out in winding hillocks of tumid pestilence, little lumps of un-ignorable itching that, within minutes, start wending and swelling their way toward my heart...my heart. No joke. It's fucking freaky.
Of course, most of the places I really, really, really want to travel are rife with hundreds of thousands of bazillions of these rotten beasties, as well as umpty-dozen other worms and insects and arachnids that wouldn't think twice (assuming they think at all) about burrowing beneath my skin, into my veins, and swimming upstream to where the blood is really fresh and delicious. I mean, I'm flattered that my flesh is considered to be so goddamned succulent to such a wide variety of creatures, but seriously...get your filthy fucking proboscis away from me!
...Gross!
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