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You close your notebook and use it to swat the little bugger like a shop assistant on black Friday

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You close your notebook and use it to swat the little bugger like a shop assistant on black Friday. Cute as the frog may be, you just want to finish this short observational account on lethargic sloths and finally go to sleep. It's been a rough day and you can't give the light of day to every single little creature that happens to scurry past.

Wait no its already nighttime....

So it's you can't always give the darkness of night to every single little creature that happens to scurry past.

Right?

Not even five seconds after you get rid of the frog, your shallow understanding of the English language is interrupted by loud screaming and some very strange gurgling sounds, coming from somewhere on the other side of camp. The universe is apparently quite determined to keep you from quietly writing about sloths and their apathetic ways of life, tonight. Giving up, you put your notebook away and lie down properly, you'll nap here for a bit and then go to your tent later when it cools down.

However, the shouting does not stop whatsoever and between 'Jorge no! you can't die on me my friend!' and 'Quickly someone, the antitoxin for poison-dart frog! He's already fading!' it's absolutely impossible to get some shut eye. You open your eyes again; some people just have no respect towards the needs of others that do not encompass their own.

With the commotion not ending anytime soon, you decide to pack up your bedroll and head over to your tent in search of a quieter environment; after all a man needs his Xanax induced beauty-sleep.

Go to sleep and try to dream of fried plantains go to 25

Go to sleep and try to dream of fried plantains go to 25

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