Tick

I found a tick on my shoulder. He hadn’t bitten me yet, so I pinched him between two fingers and held him up for inspection. His black legs kicked and kicked. I thought I heard him say something, so I leaned in close and listened. Spare me, he said. His voice was very high-pitched because he was so small. Why me, God? he cried. Because you were trying to drink my blood, I said. You might be carrying lime disease, I can’t have that. The tick’s legs stopped kicking. I’m talking to God, he said. You’re fucking presumptuous, aren’t you?