(Sherman Oaks) The SJG, world-renown kvetcher extraordinaire, called a press conference this morning in her kitchen. Over coffee and year-old defrosted kugel that still tasted pretty good, she told an elite swarm of three reporters that something disturbing had happened the night before, something that agitated her on such a deep and meaningful level, she just had to overshare. "What month is it, anyway?" the SJG asked. "April," said Sadie Shapiro of the Daily Bubbeleh. "Thank you, Sadie. Where was I?" "You were in April," said Yosef Von Winkle of the Monthly Meshugganh. "Right. So it's April and I've already received not one, but two mosquito bites. Can you believe it?" "For this nonsense, you called us to your house?" lamented Shmuel Berkowitz of the Weekly Putz. "Two mosquito bites, you can survive. Two mosquito bites aren't the end of the world. Two mosquito bites won't kill you." "Unless, God forbid, they carry a deadly disease," added Sadie. "Plenty people die from mosquito bites," chimed in Yosef." "So true," said Sadie, tearfully. "My eighth cousin Morty on my mother's side plotzed, instantly, after a mosquito took a nibble of his elbow." "At least it was over fast," said Shmuel. "May his memory be a blessing," said Yosef. "Who the @#$% invited you people over, anyway?" "You did," the reporters said, in unison.
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