When I was in second grade, my parents were counselors for a horse-riding camp. The camp was for area youth groups (grade 9-12) so I was way too young to attend, but they brought me along and let me stay in the lodge with them anyway. I had a great time. I got to ride horses, and the older kids were really nice to me. It was all the fun of camp, without any of the ugly parts, like homesickness or barely cooked biscuits.

One evening, though, things went horribly wrong. I had been out riding horses all day and returned just in time for dinner. My parents were already in the dining room, so I hurried into our room and shed my clothing, preparing to hop in the shower. Just before I got in I happened to glance down, and I saw something that made my heart stop. Something was in my belly button, something that looked like a large piece of dirt. I put my glasses on to see it better, and realized with a shock that it was not dirt at all. It was a tick. In my freakin' belly button. And it was enormous, filling up the entire concave area. By the looks of it, it had been sucking my blood for close to my entire life.

I did not scream, but for awhile I was sure I would faint. What was I supposed to do? I didn't know. So I leaned out of the door, still mostly naked, and whispered down the hall.

"Mommy," I pleaded, trying to avoid looking down at the gargantuan invader that was coexisting with my belly-button lint.

Nothing.

More insistently, then. "MOM-my."

Still nothing. I could hear laughter and the clinking of dishes. Dinner had started, and everyone was chattering pleasantly. Clearly, if I was going to get my parents' attention, I would have to go full out and scream. I was still for a moment, considering whether my situation was worth causing a fuss over. I could wait till they were done with dinner, couldn't I? I could go out and eat in a civil fashion, and then quietly tell my mom what the deal was.

In the end, my overactive imagination decided for me.

I had not read Kafka at that point in my life, but just the same, I had a weird vision of the tick growing to the size of a human and lying in my bunk bed with a book in its lap. Reading glasses were perched atop its shiny black nose. I couldn't take it any more.

"MOOOOOOMMMMMMMYYY!!!" I screamed, finally succumbing to panic.

My mom came running, probably thinking I had sliced my thumbs off trying to whittle a piece of wood or something. (So many things can go wrong at camp.) She just looked at me for a moment, without understanding, and then I simply pointed at my belly button. I remember her uttering a little laugh of surprise. "That's huge!" she said. And it was. I was little, after all, and the tick was practically the size of my head.

Mom soaked a cotton ball in alcohol and dabbed the tick with it until it loosened, at which point she used tweezers to pry it off. I had to stand still, which was the most difficult part. The whole ordeal took probably five minutes, but to me it seemed like a lifetime of agony, and I kept thinking of that awful part in STII: The Wrath of Khan where the little leech thing crawls inside Chekov's ear. What if she can't get it out? I wondered. But she did get it out, and promptly disposed of it in the toilet. At that point, I was so exhausted I went right to bed. I don't think I even had anything to eat.

That night, I dreamed of giant ticks who wore my clothing and insisted on going to school with me. Talk about your existential horror.