When I was in the sixth grade, I went to summer camp for a week with my class -- it was the highlight of the school year for us. Being with my classmates around the clock for a few days gave me a chance to know many of them better, like it or not. One of the memories that has stuck with me happened one night in the cabin, when Patrick -- a big, loud, tough kid who could sometimes be a bully -- started yelling and jumping around. He was on one of the top bunks (of course) and was standing up, arms thrashing, completely freaking out, oblivious to the ceiling inches above his head and the edge of the bed which promised a late-night trip to some country hospital at best. I seem to remember him yelling "get it off, GET IT OFF!", but that could just be time aging the story for me.
After a few frantic seconds, the episode was over, and Patrick -- in a weak moment -- admitted to us all that he was terrified of moths. You should have thought of that before choosing the top bunk right next to the bare lightbulb tough guy. Patrick, I hope you've overcome this fear, or that you're not reading today.
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