The Need for Survival

Prologue

I finish packing, going over my list of  the  supplies that I would need for this weekend's camp out. My friends and I were going to push ourselves to the limit, and see if we could "survive" the weekend with minimal supplies. 

The sound of a car horn comes from outside my apartment. "Come on!" I hear my friends shout from the street below. Throwing my bag over my shoulder, and grabbing my hunting rifle, I rush down the two flights of stairs to the street, throw my gear in the back, and squeeze in the backseat of the old, crowded, beaten up pickup.

There were around twelve or so of us. In Bobby's car, we had:

Me. Richie. The outdoors man. My dad is a park ranger, so  I'd practically grown up in the woods. I got my first deer when I was eight years old. Dad taught me how to make fires out of nothing, and I'm an expert shot. I could make snares, and knew what's good to eat, and what's not.

Next, there's Bobby. He owned this shitty car, and looked like your stereotypical redneck. He's dumb as a brick, and about as sturdy as one, too. He doesn't have the best social skills, but obviously they're good enough.

Also, Amy. She's the brains of the group. Spends almost all her time studying, trying to find out anything she can about everything. She is probably the smartest person that I know. 

Abigail. She's imaginative. Seriously, she's creative.... Maybe even a little crazy. I still remember freshman year when she started getting all those awards for her artwork.

Lastly, We have Billy. Bobby's pain-in-the-ass little brother that just follows us around being annoying nonstop.We would have left him except anywhere Bobby goes, Billy goes, according to their parents. Maybe he'll be useful in this situation.

I hop in the back seat, and make sure Billy is squashed in the small middle seat, taking as much room as I can. I plug my nose, the pungent odor of rotten food and body odor filling the car. "Dude! When was the last tie you cleaned your car?!" I shout. I pull a moldy, half eaten burger out from under me. "This is disgusting!"

"Yea, yea. I know.  At least I have a car," Bob says, turning around, and glaring at his brother. Turning to face the road, he takes off. Within about half an hour,  everyone's asleep. Except for me. I know these guys, and I didn't want to be the one to get inked, soaked with water, or anything Abigail could come up with. I take out my brand new sharpie, and draw  curly mustaches on each of their faces. I lean against the door, tired, and now able to fall asleep myself.