It was a perfect Saturday for a school camping trip on the plains. Sunny, clear skies and only a minor breeze. Though by dinner, clouds blacked-out the sky and the breeze grew to a wind. At bedtime, it was howling. From inside tents, I heard other kids toss around phrases such as, "It'll die down," "I've seen worse," and "Scorpion! Kill it! Kill it!"

As the hurricane-style wind escalated, stuff like dirt, rocks...semi-trucks...started crashing into my tent. For awhile, I believed Bigfoot was outside throwing things. I was bonkers, but to reassure myself, I asked my buddy, "Hey, think Bigfoot's out there egging my tent? Hehe."

"No man," his voice quivering, "but did you hear about the killer who escaped last night? Reports put him in our area."

"What?!"

"Yeah," he said calmly, "well, good night."

Following my buddy's reassurance and now clutching a flashlight and 36-inch Louisville Slugger, a strong gust suddenly pushed my tent across the ground, which I thought was unusual since normally stakes (wood or metal shish kabobs holding tents to the ground) are firmly in place.

So I asked myself, "Is the tent staked or were you banking on the fact your roommate's a whale?"

"Shucks," I countered to myself, "Here they are! I knew these sharp wooden things weren't JUST for fending off vampires."

A half-hour later and the tent managed to move only a few feet with "the whale," also known as David John "The Second," sitting next to me. He also went by "Junior." But there was nothing junior about him. Most people called him, "Holy cow, Run! Kong's loose!" Police used the affectionate, "Black Hole"...:"Attention all units, attention all units - Black Hole has closed another Dunkin' Donuts. I repeat. Dunkin' Donuts. Kablooie." Junior had been shaving since two, knocked over an all-you-can-eat buffet by five and barely made it home to his kids at nine.

I, on the other hand, was the opposite of him in every way. For a time, I went by the name, "Big T." Many would call it a "misrepresentation missing by as much as the word 'Big.'" And while waiting in lines at restaurants, people would often walk by my skinny body and say, "hey look, a coat rack!" Puberty hadn't struck either, or for that matter, in the next twelve years. I even lifted weights just to get enough muscle to look like a snapped twig. And being very light-weight, I wasn't at all happy my tent was moving.

Around midnight, the adults all decided the wind was too much, especially the Principle whose toupee flew away. My roommate was ecstatic about the news of leaving, "Did you hear that? Did you hear that? I think Denny's is still open!" He jumped out of the tent and sprinted to the nearest departing car.

With only me inside, the wind seemed to swirl faster, almost as if it was saying, "You're mine now! Bwhahahaha." Unexpectedly, it caught my tent as it would a ship's sail *FLOOMP* and the thing skyrocketed down the plains like a tumbleweed. Kids with camcorders would later show me footage of my experience with such narration as, "I can't even get MY face to do that!" and "Rag dolls look more realistic." Since then, I've never had the urge to see clothes tumble dry at Laundromats.

Tom Avery