Writing for Fun
October 2016
The Parasite - Sue Barker
The definition of a parasite is: - an organism which lives in or on another organism (its host) and benefits by deriving nutrients at the other's expense.
You wouldn’t want my life, it’s tough, I am judged constantly by everyone, you all have ideas what to do with me. People pay to have me killed, and by popular opinion this is ok. And hit men are expensive, and somehow that’s our fault too, if we didn’t exist there would be no need for a hit man; rubbish I say, these extortionists would find another service for you to pay out for, be in no doubt of that.
OK, ok by whom? Certainly not by me, what about my rights, my choice? Do you really think I would live like this if there were any other options? I am realistically nothing more than an immigrant, and we know how popular they are at the moment.
Have you ever thought what it must be like to have no permanent home? Unwanted, starving and have people try to eradicate you? I bet you haven’t. Well I have on a daily basis. It’s not easy, you have to be continually on the move, and what about your host? Do you think they like having you live off them? Well we have no other option; it’s our way of life.
We get such bad press, but does anyone see it from our point of view? Do they care? Do you care? I guess not, we are on our own, well not exactly alone but it’s everyone for themselves. Do you know how many homes, and I use the term loosely, I’ve had in the last month? Well I’ll tell you, it’s seven. Would you like to move all the time?
I’m only expected to live another couple of months at the most, what a depressing thought. But even worse there is no-one who will either miss me or mourn my death. Such is the life of a parasite like me.
Oh no I think I’ve made a grave error of judgement, this host is not going to put up with me for a moment longer. I have chosen the wrong place this time. I am sad, it’s warm and dark here and I felt secure, I hoped to stay for a while. But I am in peril, not safe at all. I feel trepidation, this is a new environment but not a good one I fear, my host is shaking and I am too.
The door is opened and the next sound I hear is the voice of doom, a voice said, ‘Mrs Bailey please bring Rufus in for his flea treatment,’ and that was the voice of the hit man, the last sound I would ever hear.