Naked In Tent-town

Alone and naked in my tent I have tried to memorize every freckle and mole. It's no use. Might as well study the stars on a cloudy night. I have been down to my toes, and pulled a freckle until it bled, then pulled harder. Suppose now that's one that I know. There are a few dots that are common to the flat of my stomach heading down to my groin. Just as soon as I think that I know them all, I notice one with eight legs all dancing at me. Can't begin to know how many I have short toothed pulling out, but I know that it ain't natural being naked and bent up and over around and behind yourself removing ticks from places that hair folicals are too modest to grow.
Just like the remnant of food finally freed from between my teeth that I have to bite again and again in spite, when I catch a tick hunting in my private garden the shotgun comes out. I fingernail cut the demon critter until I'm sure that my thumb nail is going to mince my index finger; my face all schrunched up the whole time.
I have already beaten all of my tick records. Well, if I had them, I would have beat them. They even have a special little demon tick down here called the seed tick. They are the smallest little monsters. They are so small in fact that they don't call on you unless they can get twenty of their friends to come along. Nice.
No. The new batteries weren't for reading.