Bug Off
Aaron found camping equipment and bags piled in the driveway in front of the garage when he got home from his part-time job at the local pizzeria. He was tired, sweaty, and wanted nothing more than to kick back, chill, and perhaps lose himself in an online video game.
He’d forgotten that this was the weekend his father had planned their camping trip to the nearby state park. Raising a hand to swipe a strand of damp hair from his eyes, seventeen-year-old Aaron groaned, “Please, not this weekend.”
His father emerged from the garage with a large ice chest in his arms. “About time you’re getting home, son,” Dad said. “I thought you were going to be a no-show like Adam.”
Adam was Aaron’s older brother who lived in the dorms at the nearby college campus. Aaron reserved a special but unverbalized curse for Adam, who had managed to avoid the dreaded yearly camping trip.
Aaron watched his father jam the ice chest in the hatch of their vehicle. His father enjoyed outdoor activities and wrote blogs for various sports websites and columns for different newspapers and magazines. Aaron has always remembered his father being such a tall man. Even now, he still towered over his somewhat short middle son.
“What about Alex?” Aaron asked, thinking his younger sibling should share the torment of a weekend camping trip.
“Soccer tournament over in Dayton,” Dad reminded him. “I guess it will be just you and me for this outing.”
“Great,” Aaron said, mostly disguising his sarcasm from his dad, who was too busy double-checking everything he had packed to notice the look on Aaron's face that suggested he had just swallowed milk way past its expiration date.
Aaron noticed a large plastic storage container marked BUGS and gestured toward it. “What’s that?”
Dad chuckled. “Just a few things to help keep the pests at bay,” he answered.
Although a nature enthusiast, his enthusiasm did not extend to creepy-crawlies like ants and spiders or flying pests like gnats, flies, and mosquitoes.
“With all that, you’ll be able to repel hordes of bugs,” Aaron remarked.
“That’s the idea, son,” Dad remarked. The 40-year-old man, dressed in a green, sleeveless muscle tee, beige cargo shorts, and hiking boots, put his hands on his son’s shoulders. “Dash up to your room and pack your bag while I load everything in the car. Get a move on!”
Aaron trudged toward the back door, not wanting to hurry at all. He brought out his phone and, hoping against hope, pulled up area weather. Nothing but clear skies and sunshine was forecast for the entire weekend. “Damn, this is really happening,” he muttered, seeing no possibility of a graceful exit from the camping trip.
Once in his room, he did make a quick call to his older brother to read him the riot act for ducking out of the camping trip. His call went directly to Adam’s voicemail. “You dickwad,” Aaron muttered.
Half an hour later Aaron and his dad hit the road, his dad behind the wheel and Aaron plugged into his music with earbuds. At the first stop sign, however, Dad tugged on the nearest earbud. “You’re not going to wear those things the entire trip, are you?”
Aaron sighed and slipped off the earbuds. “No, Dad.”
Dad clapped his right hand on Aaron’s shoulders. “We’re going to have a great time,” he said.
Aaron nodded.
“There’s a great hiking trail not far from the campground,” Dad said. “We’ll leave right after breakfast, tote a lunch, and be back at the campground in time for supper.”
A whole day! Aaron struggled to keep his expression pleasant.
They arrived at the campground gate about an hour before dusk. Dad mentioned the reservation, which the attendant confirmed. They had settled arrangements when the attendant added, “Try not to be outside your tents in the morning before sunrise. The park’s spraying for bugs, but it should all be settled by the time you wake.”
“We’ll do,” Dad said. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
Another hour passed as Aaron robotically helped his Dad set up their campsite, pitch their tent, gather wood for a campfire, and kindle a roaring blaze in the fire pit.
The air felt humid and there wasn’t even a hint of a breeze. By the end of their set-up chores, Dad had removed his tee shirt and showed off a torso covered with dark hairs. Seated in folding chairs near the fire, which only caused Aaron to sweat more, Dad downed a beer while Aaron enjoyed a diet soda.
Dad gazed up at the stars. “This is so relaxing,” he said.
“Yeah,” Aaron said.
Then, at the same time, they heard it. That unmistakable tell-tale buzz of a flying pest.
“Damn, forgot to set us up a perimeter!” Dad said.
“A what?” Aaron asked, astounded that a buzzing bug could freak out his Dad.
His Dad had leaped from the folding chair and started ransacking the contents of the plastic storage crate. In ten minutes, he had plastic fly strips suspended under the tent’s awning, a couple of citronella candles burning, and had let the battery-operated bug zapper hang right in front of the tent’s main flap.
Dad pointed to the zapper proudly. “It’s a combination camping lantern and bug zapper,” he told Aaron.
“That’s great,” Aaron said as he stared at the pale purple glow of the device.
A moment later, Aaron excused himself to walk the few yards to the campground toilets. Once he returned to the tent, he said, “I’m beat, Dad. I think I’ll turn in.”
“I think I will, too,” Dad said. “That way we can be awake early tomorrow.”
Aaron reluctantly let go of the hope that Dad might at least let him sleep in. “Great,” he nodded.
A short while later, while drifting off to sleep, Aaron heard a faint sizzle right outside the tent. Dimly, he realized that some flying insect had just bought it at the combined lantern/zapper hanging just outside their tent.
When Aaron woke in a stuffy sleeping bag, he needed to go to the bathroom. He glanced at his phone and saw 5:47 a.m. It was still dark outside. He slipped from the bag, pulled on a pair of his board shorts and his sneakers, and unzipped the tent. He still saw stars overhead. Since the shorts didn’t offer a pocket, he left his phone behind.
He was halfway down the trail when he heard a mechanized sound and saw the lights of a truck with a shadowy tank mounted in its converted bed driving the edge of the nearby parking area near the gate. He continued walking toward the bathrooms when he felt a splash of liquid to his face and bare chest. “What the fuck!”
The truck lumbered on around the parking area. A hissing noise signaled a regular release of some sort of bug spray.
He reached the bathrooms, which were illuminated with weak lighting, as the spray started to sting on his face and chest. He jerkily removed the board shorts and sneakers, kicking the shorts in one direction and the shoes in another, before he stepped into a shower cell only to make another unpleasant discovery. The water for the showers was unheated.
He recoiled from the shower. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Aaron whined. “A cold shower!”
He stood there, naked and dripping when he heard a whiny buzz. A second later he felt a bite near his right shoulder. He slapped the offending bug, pulverizing it into an unrecognizable mess.
“And the fucking bug spray doesn’t even work,” he thought.
Suddenly, Aaron felt very strange. The shadowy interior of the campground bathroom seemed to expand around him.
“Ugghh, what is happening?” Aaron asked as his voice rose in pitch.
In less than a minute, Aaron shrank rapidly until he was the size of a bug. That alone would have been enough to freak him out, but his changes didn’t end with size. His body began to transform, face and head altering, sprouting wings and extra limbs, before the unfortunate teenager was left, for all practical appearances, a common fly.
He might have remained blissfully unaware of his transformation for a little longer if not for the dome-shaped droplet of water on the tile near him. Looking at the translucent surface of the bubble of water, he saw his hideous insectoid features reflected back at him. He recoiled with an involuntary mental scream. "Oh god! No!"
He’d forgotten that this was the weekend his father had planned their camping trip to the nearby state park. Raising a hand to swipe a strand of damp hair from his eyes, seventeen-year-old Aaron groaned, “Please, not this weekend.”
His father emerged from the garage with a large ice chest in his arms. “About time you’re getting home, son,” Dad said. “I thought you were going to be a no-show like Adam.”
Adam was Aaron’s older brother who lived in the dorms at the nearby college campus. Aaron reserved a special but unverbalized curse for Adam, who had managed to avoid the dreaded yearly camping trip.
Aaron watched his father jam the ice chest in the hatch of their vehicle. His father enjoyed outdoor activities and wrote blogs for various sports websites and columns for different newspapers and magazines. Aaron has always remembered his father being such a tall man. Even now, he still towered over his somewhat short middle son.
“What about Alex?” Aaron asked, thinking his younger sibling should share the torment of a weekend camping trip.
“Soccer tournament over in Dayton,” Dad reminded him. “I guess it will be just you and me for this outing.”
“Great,” Aaron said, mostly disguising his sarcasm from his dad, who was too busy double-checking everything he had packed to notice the look on Aaron's face that suggested he had just swallowed milk way past its expiration date.
Aaron noticed a large plastic storage container marked BUGS and gestured toward it. “What’s that?”
Dad chuckled. “Just a few things to help keep the pests at bay,” he answered.
Although a nature enthusiast, his enthusiasm did not extend to creepy-crawlies like ants and spiders or flying pests like gnats, flies, and mosquitoes.
“With all that, you’ll be able to repel hordes of bugs,” Aaron remarked.
“That’s the idea, son,” Dad remarked. The 40-year-old man, dressed in a green, sleeveless muscle tee, beige cargo shorts, and hiking boots, put his hands on his son’s shoulders. “Dash up to your room and pack your bag while I load everything in the car. Get a move on!”
Aaron trudged toward the back door, not wanting to hurry at all. He brought out his phone and, hoping against hope, pulled up area weather. Nothing but clear skies and sunshine was forecast for the entire weekend. “Damn, this is really happening,” he muttered, seeing no possibility of a graceful exit from the camping trip.
Once in his room, he did make a quick call to his older brother to read him the riot act for ducking out of the camping trip. His call went directly to Adam’s voicemail. “You dickwad,” Aaron muttered.
Half an hour later Aaron and his dad hit the road, his dad behind the wheel and Aaron plugged into his music with earbuds. At the first stop sign, however, Dad tugged on the nearest earbud. “You’re not going to wear those things the entire trip, are you?”
Aaron sighed and slipped off the earbuds. “No, Dad.”
Dad clapped his right hand on Aaron’s shoulders. “We’re going to have a great time,” he said.
Aaron nodded.
“There’s a great hiking trail not far from the campground,” Dad said. “We’ll leave right after breakfast, tote a lunch, and be back at the campground in time for supper.”
A whole day! Aaron struggled to keep his expression pleasant.
They arrived at the campground gate about an hour before dusk. Dad mentioned the reservation, which the attendant confirmed. They had settled arrangements when the attendant added, “Try not to be outside your tents in the morning before sunrise. The park’s spraying for bugs, but it should all be settled by the time you wake.”
“We’ll do,” Dad said. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
Another hour passed as Aaron robotically helped his Dad set up their campsite, pitch their tent, gather wood for a campfire, and kindle a roaring blaze in the fire pit.
The air felt humid and there wasn’t even a hint of a breeze. By the end of their set-up chores, Dad had removed his tee shirt and showed off a torso covered with dark hairs. Seated in folding chairs near the fire, which only caused Aaron to sweat more, Dad downed a beer while Aaron enjoyed a diet soda.
Dad gazed up at the stars. “This is so relaxing,” he said.
“Yeah,” Aaron said.
Then, at the same time, they heard it. That unmistakable tell-tale buzz of a flying pest.
“Damn, forgot to set us up a perimeter!” Dad said.
“A what?” Aaron asked, astounded that a buzzing bug could freak out his Dad.
His Dad had leaped from the folding chair and started ransacking the contents of the plastic storage crate. In ten minutes, he had plastic fly strips suspended under the tent’s awning, a couple of citronella candles burning, and had let the battery-operated bug zapper hang right in front of the tent’s main flap.
Dad pointed to the zapper proudly. “It’s a combination camping lantern and bug zapper,” he told Aaron.
“That’s great,” Aaron said as he stared at the pale purple glow of the device.
A moment later, Aaron excused himself to walk the few yards to the campground toilets. Once he returned to the tent, he said, “I’m beat, Dad. I think I’ll turn in.”
“I think I will, too,” Dad said. “That way we can be awake early tomorrow.”
Aaron reluctantly let go of the hope that Dad might at least let him sleep in. “Great,” he nodded.
A short while later, while drifting off to sleep, Aaron heard a faint sizzle right outside the tent. Dimly, he realized that some flying insect had just bought it at the combined lantern/zapper hanging just outside their tent.
When Aaron woke in a stuffy sleeping bag, he needed to go to the bathroom. He glanced at his phone and saw 5:47 a.m. It was still dark outside. He slipped from the bag, pulled on a pair of his board shorts and his sneakers, and unzipped the tent. He still saw stars overhead. Since the shorts didn’t offer a pocket, he left his phone behind.
He was halfway down the trail when he heard a mechanized sound and saw the lights of a truck with a shadowy tank mounted in its converted bed driving the edge of the nearby parking area near the gate. He continued walking toward the bathrooms when he felt a splash of liquid to his face and bare chest. “What the fuck!”
The truck lumbered on around the parking area. A hissing noise signaled a regular release of some sort of bug spray.
He reached the bathrooms, which were illuminated with weak lighting, as the spray started to sting on his face and chest. He jerkily removed the board shorts and sneakers, kicking the shorts in one direction and the shoes in another, before he stepped into a shower cell only to make another unpleasant discovery. The water for the showers was unheated.
He recoiled from the shower. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Aaron whined. “A cold shower!”
He stood there, naked and dripping when he heard a whiny buzz. A second later he felt a bite near his right shoulder. He slapped the offending bug, pulverizing it into an unrecognizable mess.
“And the fucking bug spray doesn’t even work,” he thought.
Suddenly, Aaron felt very strange. The shadowy interior of the campground bathroom seemed to expand around him.
“Ugghh, what is happening?” Aaron asked as his voice rose in pitch.
In less than a minute, Aaron shrank rapidly until he was the size of a bug. That alone would have been enough to freak him out, but his changes didn’t end with size. His body began to transform, face and head altering, sprouting wings and extra limbs, before the unfortunate teenager was left, for all practical appearances, a common fly.
He might have remained blissfully unaware of his transformation for a little longer if not for the dome-shaped droplet of water on the tile near him. Looking at the translucent surface of the bubble of water, he saw his hideous insectoid features reflected back at him. He recoiled with an involuntary mental scream. "Oh god! No!"