Dream all day, run the night.
So far in life I've had two ticks on me, and only once was it terrifying. The first time I was on a third grade field trip. I was excited to be one of the three kids who had one because to a bunch of 8 year olds, this was like finding the golden ticket in Willy Wonka; well sort of. The second time I was in my second semester of college. I had come back from a hike in my aerobics class which was just as poorly run as it was organized. I had gotten into Ned (my nova) and I felt a tickle underneath my shirt. There he was. Dark, devious, and sailing around my stomach like Columbus. I went into panic mode, jumped out of Ned, and attempted to flick him off. With no luck, and in the heat of hysteria, I took of my shirt and proceeded to wildly smack all over my body. Heres the imagery: A 5'3'' paler than pale ginger, shirtless, and vigorously beating her body in what may have looked like an ancient african tribe dance, standing next to a 1978 Nova when classes at a commuter college just let out. Basically, any witnesses saw the equivalent to a flying Unicorn that recites Hamlet.
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