This is a somewhat fictitious account of a camping trip I had a long while back with a dear friend of mine. Some of the things may or may not be entirely or not at all true or false all or none of the time.
There I sat. Or lay, rather. Couldn't much sit up very well, having to sleep on a shelf. I lay there, planning my escape. Pinned up 5 inches above my nose were the blueprints i had drawn up, amongst other calculations. Blueprints on how to tunnel out of the current bug-infested predicament, and I do mean that literally. Holed up in a trailer, filled with mosquitoes and moths, watching a movie about a boy who thought he was from mars (and fallaciously claimed to taste colours) with my friend and her family. It was frighteningly hot during that time of year. But it wasn't so much the heat as it was the bugs. And the food. All of the food was pork. Sausages, bacon, ham sandwiches, all pork. Heat, bugs, pork; I was melting, being eaten alive, and starved, simultaneously. A torturous occasion, on all accounts, to be certain. We had dined previously in the day at an Italian restaurant. Italian food is akin to pork for my taste; practically intolerable. I managed to smuggle back 3 prawns, which i carefully cut up and rationed out over the next few days. I kept it in the corner of my shelf-bed, hoping no one would notice and deprive me of my food source from the sea. There I lay, smacking at the mosquitoes, in a feeble attempt to stay unscathed by there ever-probing stings and bites. I had planned an escape route, and calculated the time it would take me to either walk home or hitch-hike, if at all possible. I had enough rations for about 9 days, if i allotted one small piece of shrimp for each day of the return journey. I would also try and procure some sort of balm for the bites, as it was almost certain that i would contract malaria or gangrene. Another all too real possibility was the contraction of scurvy, seeing as how i didn't have any good source of vitamin C at the time. At this point, I decided to create my last will and testament. With trembling hand, I bequeathed all of my earthly possessions to my brother, and wrote fondest regards to my mum and dad. I would put into action my plan the next day.
I never got the chance, we ended up at some kind of water park in a current-driven river sort of attraction. We wore ridiculous hats, and I was much ashamed of my existence at that point in time. At least it was a chance to escape from those infernal insects. We returned from this venture, somehow sunburnt despite the large-brimmed hats we adorned out sweaty heads with. Another night spent on the shelf.
I was jolted from sleep in the middle of the night. I couldn't remember where i was. As i sat up rather abruptly, i hit my head quite hard (and rather loudly, i'm afraid) on the ceiling above the shelf. This only added to the disorientation and terror. Not to mention it elicited a concerned question from someone that had been roused from sleep due to the sound produced from my skull smashing against the ceiling. I rubbed my head in confusion, then remembered where I was. An insect infested inferno.
I never did manage to escape. Instead, we all drove home the very next day. I returned home, only my epidermis and pride ridden with wounds and disease.
~end
this was inspired by a discussion had today with my friend from the story, recounting this camping trip in both amusement and something akin to flashbacks to the horrors of war. :P much love to my friend and her delightful family! it wasn't really all that bad of a time.
There I sat. Or lay, rather. Couldn't much sit up very well, having to sleep on a shelf. I lay there, planning my escape. Pinned up 5 inches above my nose were the blueprints i had drawn up, amongst other calculations. Blueprints on how to tunnel out of the current bug-infested predicament, and I do mean that literally. Holed up in a trailer, filled with mosquitoes and moths, watching a movie about a boy who thought he was from mars (and fallaciously claimed to taste colours) with my friend and her family. It was frighteningly hot during that time of year. But it wasn't so much the heat as it was the bugs. And the food. All of the food was pork. Sausages, bacon, ham sandwiches, all pork. Heat, bugs, pork; I was melting, being eaten alive, and starved, simultaneously. A torturous occasion, on all accounts, to be certain. We had dined previously in the day at an Italian restaurant. Italian food is akin to pork for my taste; practically intolerable. I managed to smuggle back 3 prawns, which i carefully cut up and rationed out over the next few days. I kept it in the corner of my shelf-bed, hoping no one would notice and deprive me of my food source from the sea. There I lay, smacking at the mosquitoes, in a feeble attempt to stay unscathed by there ever-probing stings and bites. I had planned an escape route, and calculated the time it would take me to either walk home or hitch-hike, if at all possible. I had enough rations for about 9 days, if i allotted one small piece of shrimp for each day of the return journey. I would also try and procure some sort of balm for the bites, as it was almost certain that i would contract malaria or gangrene. Another all too real possibility was the contraction of scurvy, seeing as how i didn't have any good source of vitamin C at the time. At this point, I decided to create my last will and testament. With trembling hand, I bequeathed all of my earthly possessions to my brother, and wrote fondest regards to my mum and dad. I would put into action my plan the next day.
I never got the chance, we ended up at some kind of water park in a current-driven river sort of attraction. We wore ridiculous hats, and I was much ashamed of my existence at that point in time. At least it was a chance to escape from those infernal insects. We returned from this venture, somehow sunburnt despite the large-brimmed hats we adorned out sweaty heads with. Another night spent on the shelf.
I was jolted from sleep in the middle of the night. I couldn't remember where i was. As i sat up rather abruptly, i hit my head quite hard (and rather loudly, i'm afraid) on the ceiling above the shelf. This only added to the disorientation and terror. Not to mention it elicited a concerned question from someone that had been roused from sleep due to the sound produced from my skull smashing against the ceiling. I rubbed my head in confusion, then remembered where I was. An insect infested inferno.
I never did manage to escape. Instead, we all drove home the very next day. I returned home, only my epidermis and pride ridden with wounds and disease.
~end
this was inspired by a discussion had today with my friend from the story, recounting this camping trip in both amusement and something akin to flashbacks to the horrors of war. :P much love to my friend and her delightful family! it wasn't really all that bad of a time.
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