Cape Cod Caper

This actually happened to me! Hope you enjoy my memoir!


It was a damp, muggy night in Cape Cod. Six friends and I were huddled together in our eight-man tent with five blow-up mattresses. From the tent window you could see our dripping bikinis drying on the clothes line. The scent of salty sea water still lingered with them as they rustled in the slight breeze. Sweet smells of corn, beans and roasted chicken wafted through the air from our tasty quesadilla dinner. Our tent was slightly illuminated with the soft glow of flickering flashlights. The mood inside was eerie and sinister while we whispered ghost stories into the night.
Abruptly, a set of headlights glared at us as they passed by. “It must be them,” someone murmured. “Them” was the couple camping out next to our campsite. They frightened us with their dreadlocks, tattoos, and dark clothes. We were secretly dreading the moment they arrived home from a late night dinner.
The seven of us crept a little closer together when suddenly---“AAAAAHHHHH!!!!!” Our cries pierced the inky black night as an unknown stranger attacked our innocent souls from the side of the tent. We shrieked with fear as our hearts leapt into our throats. The neighbors were home! (At least we thought they were.)
Continuing with its assault, the mysterious creature dragged its long fingers across the side of the tent. We screamed bloody murder as the fingers got closer and closer to the door. By this time we had all moved into the center of the tent, afraid of being alone against the wall. We looked like a frightened group of puppies piled on top of each other. “I think I wet my pants!” someone whispered.
Then, ever so slowly, the zipper started to open. We trembled with nervous expectance. “AAAAAHHHHH!!!!!” The screams started all over again as a tall, dark figure filled up the doorway.
“Shhh!” it said. “It’s only me!” My mother poked her head into the tent.
“Geez, Mom! What was that for?” I asked.
She smoothly avoided my question. “You girls need to be quiet now,” she said while slipping into her own tent. We decided to take her advice and crawled back into our sleeping bags, still a little disturbed from her trick.
As we drifted off to sleep, the night was playing a symphony of sounds. Crickets chirping, birds quietly talking amongst themselves, and---PUUUUURP!---farting? “Katherine!” Sarah squealed through a mouthful of giggles.
“It wasn’t me, I swear!” Katherine protested. We heard the noise again and along with it, the laughter of Emily’s mom. It must be one of the chaperones, I thought to myself.
“Someone had a little too much bean salad!” Eve exclaimed. The noise sounded once again and this time I knew exactly who it was coming from.
Six faces looked at me with puzzled expressions. “Haley, what are you doing?” Katherine questioned. I had placed my hands over my mouth and took a deep breath. PUUUUURP! Our tent erupted with chuckles. My plan worked! The same sound echoed back to me.
“It’s the call of the wild!” I whispered. More laughter burst from our mouths as we rolled on the floor giggling. My mother was funnier than I thought.
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I’ll never forget that night in Cape Cod. Just me and my friends, hanging out, laughing, and making memories to last a life time. We really got to know each other that weekend, a lot better than we could have anywhere else. Who knew ghost stories and farting contests could be so rewarding?