The year is 1976 and I'm camping with my girl scout troop. A lost grasshopper finds it's way into my tent. I use a whole can of bug spray and kill the grasshopper. (Insert sad music here)
It's now 2008. I'm sitting in my doctor's office as she tells me I'm suffering from a disease. A multi-systemic disease that is caused by the bite of a BUG. (Insert Jaws theme music here)
Is this karma coming back and kicking me in the ass?
Never go camping.