In memoriam to Wayne aka comicfan,. Thank you for all your inspiring prompts. R.I.P.
I blew an ivy vine out of my face, imagining all kinds of spiders and insects marching over my back, debating whether they should crawl under the hem of my rugged-up shirt or into my pants. I shuddered and pulled the black fabric down one-handed as best as I could, squatting in some underbrush, and stuffed it in the waistband of my fatigues. Seriously Uncle Jack, dad-pants? We’re on a reconnaissance mission