I Got the Full Package

I Got the Full Package(Karina) I Got the Full Package

It was Tuesday March 12, when I found out about the hunting trip. I had not been to the family ranch in years, so of course I was ecstatic. I packed three days before we were going to leave. That was how excited I was. But nothing could prepare me for the three nights to come.

Friday morning we all packed into the suddenly-too-small Suburban. Crammed between my youngest and eldest brothers, I envied my older brother who sat in the third row all by himself. But was done was done, all the bags were packed, the tent and canopy squished in one corner of the trunk, while the guns teetered precariously at the top of our pile of essentials. My mother was convinced nothing would fall, and I believed her. We were on the highway passing San Benito when the hard-cased gun slid forward and slammed right on the back of my head. Embarrassed and hurt I convinced everyone that I was okay, but I felt a dull throbbing where the case had hit me. My eyes stung with painful tears but I forced them away, not wanting to ruin my trip hours before we got there. I put my earphones on and began to listen to music, hoping it would take my mind off the pain in the back of my head. That was when another thing went wrong. My left earphone didn’t work! Great, I thought, just what I need right now. I turned my head to the left so my left ear was on the pillow, leaving the one with the working earphone facing up. I tried to fall asleep but I gave up after five minutes of no sign of sleepiness. I sat up and realized I wasn’t the only one awake. My older brother was awake scrolling through something on his phone. I was bored and he also looked rather distant from what he was doing so I decided to ask him if he wanted to play a game. Being the brother that he is, he denied my request rather angrily so I turned around and went back to listening to music.

Hours later we arrived at the ranch and I jumped out of my seat just with the sight of the clearing we had for trailers and tents. I didn’t even bother to help unpack our things, I just ran around to the trunk and got my .22 and ran for the trails. I sat up in a blind until sundown, which was only two hours from the time I reached it. I was about to go back to the clearing when I heard a noise. It was a low grunt accompanied by a stench so foul it could only be tracked to one animal. I had found a wild hog. He didn’t hear me rustle into position as I aligned the end of my barrel with his head. I recited a small prayer, held my breath, and squeezed the trigger. I was hoping for at least a headshot, but what I got was way more. The hog stood there, shocked. After what felt like an eternity the hog fell to one side, bleeding from his eye, where I had prayed to hit him. I took out my trusty rope and dragged him all the way back to the clearing, where we cleaned and ate him. I, being customary in my family, was the only one who got to eat hog that night, because I shot him.

That night I woke up to an unusual sound emanating from my stomach. I then felt my mouth go watery the way it always does right before I am about to throw up. I unzipped the tent flap with such force that the zipper broke off. I used the other zipper to open the tent the rest of the way. I stumbled over some shoes and threw up right over my mother’s new pair of Nike’s. Uh-oh, I thought. I stayed up all night, only getting two minutes of breathers before another round of pork flew back up and out of my mouth. My mother says it was the stomach flu. I say it was that hog getting revenge on me. But we both can agree that I got the full package from that hog.