Fire ants. We were driving around Texas, stopping in parks and going for hikes, and then returning to the pickup truck to sleep. The ants got into everything while we were out for the day. We figured it out when we slid into our sleeping bags. There were ants in there, and started biting the fuck out of us.
Here we were, running around the truck naked and shouting. Slapping the little fuckers off, and beating the sleeping bags against the truck. It didn’t help. How could you ever trust those sleeping bags again? But it was cold. But we couldn’t get into the cab of the truck and sleep because there were ants in there, too. Drive the truck to a different spot, and the ants would come with us.
We got dressed, after beating our clothes on rocks really well. We slept in the dirt, away from the truck. In the morning, covered with bites, drove to town. Threw a lot of stuff away, and vacuumed the hell out of that truck.
Damn, I am itching again.—buddaslovehandles