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Camping.

Everywhere Bart looked there seemed to be hills, hills upon hills upon hills. He had never seen so much grass in all his life, where had homer brought them. At first it had seemed like a good idea, messing around in forest upsetting the wildlife being a pest late nights stars…but he had been neglected in being told about the carrying and walking. The sack he carried was aching his back like nothing he had felt before, it only contained a little food a sleeping bag torch and apparent other essentials, but bartwas convinced his dad had given him lead articles, that’s what they felt like. the boots were definitely the heaviest in the world, he was going to collapse and soon. “Are wethere yet” he asked hopefully, not that here look any different from over there there or there. Homer sighed, they had walked for ages, he had seen a stream a little ways over the last hill so there was water, here seemed as good a place as any. “Why not” he exclaimed. He was very tired, being the man he had opted to carry the tent and most of the supplies….bad move. He really had to get into shape. To bart his fathers words were music to his ears, before he had even finished the small sentence barts ruck sack was off and he was sat panting on the floor. Bart thought though his father looked worse for wear, red faced and sweating and panting like a dog.

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