How Potato Bugs Change the Night

My SOS happened about a week ago. My friend, Jack Mittelstadt (said "middle stat"), was hosting a birthday sleepover for himself and I was invited. Jack Simpson, George Luebkeman (don't even bother trying to pronounce his name), and Jack Mittelstadt joined me. We were having the time of our lives going on a "night prowl," having the best (and my first) slice of cheesecake I had ever had, and watching the "Dr. No" James bond.

When Jack's dad, John, finally ushered us into the tent, we stayed up for about four hours. Well, actually, I stayed up for four hours. They stayed up for five or six hours.

After that, George started telling scary stories (and they were scary). But it wasn't long before I shrieked. The loudest in a long time. George stopped.

"Yeah, it's called a mo- ughhhhhhh!" George started. He paused. "That ain't a moth."

"Don't tell me it's a potato bug," I said, looking away.

"It's a potato bug," The Jacks said in unison.

We just sat there "admiring" it's "beauty" for a long time.

"Look at it's little nose," Jack Mittelstadt said. "Where's Riley?" I heard him say as I went to get John.

"Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. It isn't a potato bug. It's a gryllus rubens," John said as he came up. "Now that is somethin' you don't see everyday."

"Eh? In english please," I said.

"Southwestern field cricket," he informed us. "Glad to be of service, comrade." He picked it up with his bare hands and set it on the deck.

We were relieved. At least, George and I were. Simpson was a little concerned, but Mittelstadt could've cared less, because he had a "sharp pocketknife."

I told him he was full of baloney and potato bugs could bite him or sting him, or do whatever that hurt before he could even blink. Then he told me I was full of baloney and it wouldn't fall. Then, I reminded him if if did fall, he would have to stab or cut me in the process, and he would be paying for my trip to the emergency room. He knew he couldn't win.

Jack Simpson and George shushed us, and then George started telling scary stories. I didn't really listen to them. I was too busy thinking about how much it would hurt if I was bitten by the "potato bug." The people who know me know how much of a coward I am, so if they knew I wasn't listening, they could probably guess what I was thinking.

When we were quiet, we heard some scuttling noises. Jack Mittelstadt told us that they were rats, which made the rest of us feel a whole lot better. Jack and George (who just wanted a chance to use his knife) thought that we should hunt them down and kill them. Jack Simpson and I, on the other hand, thought that killing innocent animals was cruel.

"Jack," I was saying, "why would you think a couple of rats could hurt us?"

Jack looked outside the tent screen flap. "Okay, they aren't rats," Jack admitted, scared. "They're raccoons."

Simpson and I exchanged looks. "Uhhhhhh... Wow, believeable Jack," I claimed.

He gave me a look of stupidity. "No, I'm serious. Anyone still like my plan?" he asked hopefully.

"No," Simpson and I replied clearly in unison.

"I think it's reasonable and it would make a good story," George volunteered.

Annoyed, I got my flashlight and looked outside the tent flap. "Jack there isn't anything out there."

Simpson got up. "Yeah, Jack,"

"See you in the morning, guys," I said sleepily. "I'm going to get some shuteye."

"Why can't you sleep here?" George asked.

"Because you're blabbering," I replied.

"Good night!" And off I went inside his house.

I really don't think those guys scared off those raccooons.

But we heard some news the next morning.

"Dad! Dad! Dad!" Jack shouted, waking me up in the process.

"What, son?" I joked sleepily.

"Riley, you aren't my dad," he reminded me.

"I was just trying to remind you who you woke up in the middle of a pleasant, deep, sleep," I told him sarcastically.

"Shut up," he told me.

"There were some raccoons and, and, and, and, um, uhhhhhhhhhh..." he said quickly to his dad who just came upstairs.

"Ahem, John, what Jack is trying to say is he wanted to kill an innocent raccoon," I finished.

"Why thank you, Riley, for your excellent comment," he said.

"Just doing my job," I said as I tried to fall back asleep (which didn't happen).

"Jack," John was saying. "They were squirrels."

I really didn't have that much fun for the rest of the morning.

Now, "Dr. No" James Bond was cool. "A View to a Kill" was really boring.