There are as many festivals as there are mosquitoes after a rain.

We stepped carefully, so softly, over thorny plants. The dust had turned to mud, splattering our shoes, socks, and legs. By the time we reached the boat, our clothes were clinging to our flesh and stained with the bloody remains of mosquitoes.

Fair insect! that, with threadlike legs spread out, And blood-extracting bill and filmy wing, Dost murmur, as thou slowly sail'st about, In pitiless ears full many a plaintive thing, And tell how little our large veins would bleed, Would we but yield them to thy bitter need.

Man, they got mosquitoes 'round this place big enough to rape a chicken.

They're bloodsucking mosquitoes. You just can't get them all.

We are sucking out all the debris so in the next rain they can drain.