The Night of a Thousand Mosquitoes
Chapter Three of the Saco5 adventure
By JON GRANEY
Friday, August 9, 1996:
As we pitched our tent that evening, we made a horrible discovery -- the tent had a gash in it, and the flap didn't zipper shut. I swore I heard the mosquitoes laughing.
But we pitched what was left of the tent and settled into our site. The sun slipped behind the trees and the skeeters attacked. We built a fire, used insect repellent, and even burned citronella torches. Nothing worked.
After the fire was started, we gathered around for some roasted hot dogs. By the time they reached our mouths, though, they had some mileage on them.
Hot dog after hot dog rolled off the metal rack and into the fire -- usually premised by someone yelling, "Oh no!"
Those that survived the fiery plunge ended up in the sand. Jeff2 didn't have a problem eating the Sand Dogs, but he did make Jeff truck down to the river to wash them off. One remarkable weenie fell into the fire, went back on the grill, fell into the sand, was washed off, fell into the sand again, was thrown down to the water's edge, rinsed again, put on a bun, and eaten (by Jeff2, of course).
After a short dinner and a bonfire that didn't repel any mosquitoes, we jumped into our tent, patched up the holes, and tried to go to sleep...at 8:30.
Outside, other campers braved the night of a thousand mosquitoes, laughing and yelling. As darkness fell, none of us were tired, so we started yelling jokes again, much to Rich's dismay. But this time, we employed a Jerky Boy-esque Indian accent.
As the tent quieted down, Jeff rose from the tent floor in his sleeping bag, crouched beside me, and let out the most obnoxious fart in my left ear. I'd rather not discuss that. We laughed ourselves to sleep and awoke relatively unbitten, yet stiff and achey from sleeping on the ground.
It was on to day two of our Saco5 adventure...
In our next chapter, Twenty Bucks! Twenty Bucks!, we'll discuss Jeff2's near-fatal mosquito encounter, and we'll talk about how we let Sizzleback slip right by.
Stay tuned.
"Oh, he heet me weeth a breeck,
tie me up with beeg rope! AIEEEE! Ohhh..."
~JON GRANEY, August 9, 1996~
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