Girl v. Nature

So I am reading this book about creating characters.

It's a class assignment, and my most recent obsession.

And in this book I am reading, it is to the part about creating conflict. Apparently, without conflict there's no story. Just words.

And that my friends, is why they script the Hills.

But anyway, according to Dr. Ballon, the author, and also Ms. Madill, my third grade teacher, there are 3 types of conflict.

Tonight the book is telling me to write about a specific external conflict: man v. nature.

(Usually I save these exercises for the hard drive on my computer, but since I aspire to one day tell serious man v. nature stories that reflect Michael Crichton quality, I figure I better start somewhere.)

((Dang. This book has me whipped. I'm even doing it's exercises.))

And now... the story that sounds like it came from a second grade writing prompt:

Spaghetti Os in the Woods

The floor of my family's tent trailer was soft.

Not because it was padded with carpet or blow up air mattresses, but because underneath the yellow and brown linoleum the floor was rotting out.

When I was younger, my family used to camp in the middle of the woods. I remember driving in the forest, pitching a tent, and peeing by trees.

I loved the woods. They were fantastically far away from everything.

That though, was before I knew about mountain lions, killer bees, and spilt Spaghetti O's.

In the trailer, I sat at a table with an empty pink bowl and a matching pink cup in front of me. The small room smelt like propane gas and artificial flavoring. My fingertips were cold, and I thought about crawling into my blue and red, mini sleeping bag to get warm.

Then Mom poured warm Spaghetti O's into my pink bowl and I thought for a minute life couldn't get any better.

Not even if I was peeing by a tree in the middle of the woods.

And that's when my sister turned to me and poured her whole bowl of Spaghetti O's on my head.

The red goop sunk into my hair. And I thought, "WHY ME?"

And I said, "Hey! Meanie. Why'd you pour Spaghetti O's on my head? Now I get to pour my bowl on your head." *

And then I had to take a journey on a long dark path, and fight the cold, and swat the mosquitos that wanted to suck my blood and the tomato sauce, and face my fears of the dark.**

Then I found a campground shower, washed the O's out of my hair, and came out victorious.

The End.

* I don't actually remember what I said. Nor do I remember why my sister dumped her dinner on my head. In fact, actually, said sister remembers the experience very differently. She says we weren't camping, and that she dumped a few O's on my head, not an entire bowl.

Despite numerous attempts, we have not been able to get my mom to take a side.

So, like how many licks it takes to the center of a lolipop, the world may never know.

** In case for some reason you are confused about how this is a man/girl v. nature conflict, please read that section in bold again.

I considered writing about the time when my family helped scare a bear out of our campground with a frying pan and some hate speech.

But that was a much less traumatizing experience.