I itch vigorously at my arms despite my mother's constant reminders not to do so. Another mosquito has bit me again, giving me my thirteenth mosquito bite in a single day. I had emptied an entire can of bug spray, covering every inch of exposed skin and yet those blood-sucking peeves won't leave me alone.
I've begged my parents not to take me on this camping trip. I was perfectly happy sleeping on a comfortable mattress, taking warm showers and watching movies on a flat screen TV. But no, It won't be family time without you, they insisted. So now I'm stuck in the middle of nowhere with my odd family who considers a weekend without air-conditioning, internet or flushable toilets to be a "fun little adventure".
So far, this trip has been anything but fun. I barely slept last night with my dad's headache-inducing snoring and my annoying little brother continuously kicking me in his sleep. And, I admit, I was too terrified to fall asleep in the wild with a tent as the only barrier against those ruthless animals and I. Coyotes. Grizzly bears. Big foot. Just one encounter with a massive beast and I'd be dead in a minute.
Scratch that. More like a second.
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