“Nice boar,” I said, putting up my hand. “Nice friendly boar.”

The beast whipped its snout back and forth, its three-inch tusks glistening in the light from my headlamp.

“Okay, Pumbaa,” I said softly. “Nothing to be alarmed about.”

I was trying to figure out what to do. Should I pull up my pants and start running? Should I try to be as still as possible? Was I supposed to get big and yell? Or was that for a bear?

I set the Game Boy down and found a small rock. I chucked it at the boar and said, “Get out of here!”

The rock missed and only seemed to agitate Pumbaa more.

He snorted several times.

I quickly looked for another rock but couldn’t find one. My eyes fell on the Game Boy. I picked it up and said, “Sorry, old friend.”

I threw the Game Boy at Pumbaa. It hit him in the middle of the forehead. He stood there stunned for a second, then he kicked up dirt.

All I’d done was break my Game Boy and piss off the boar even more.

He whipped his head back and forth. I flexed both my hands; ready to throw down if it came to it.

Pumbaa shot forward.

I readied myself for the fight of my life, but Pumbaa zoomed four feet to my left, crashing through the underbrush. I twisted, waiting for him to come up from behind me, but it appeared he was gone for good.

Hakuna matata.

My heart was racing as I stood and began pulling my pants up. When straightening, my head smacked against the low branch of a nearby tree. Bits of dirt and leaves fell from the branch onto my head. But what I’d thought were bits of dirt and leaves were in actuality an army of red ants.

I was covered in them—covered in quarter-inch-long red ants with trisegmented bodies and razor-sharp pinchers.

I dropped my pants and began frantically wiping at the ants. I felt a sharp pain as the first one bit me on the neck. It felt like someone had touched a match to my skin.

I continued swiping, but the bites kept coming. Head, neck, face, arms. I felt a bite on my leg. They were in my pants. A bite on my ass. Then, a moment later, it happened. Like someone had touched a hot poker to my left testicle.

I screamed loud enough that I woke a troop of monkeys nearby and sent them into a frenzy.

A flashlight bobbed toward me, and a terrified Diego asked, “What’s going on?”

“Ants!”

“You have to take all your clothes off,” he instructed. “Or they will just keep biting you.”

I didn’t hesitate, pulling off my shirt and throwing it to the ground, then kicking off my boots, pants, and boxer briefs, until I was completely naked.