“OMIGOD OMIGOD DUDE GET IT OFF ME!!!”
As I exited the campground washroom, a couple of 20-year-old-ish men were dancing around, screeching. One of them was holding out the fabric on the front of his tank top and the other one was screaming “Jesus, what IS THAT?” while swatting ineffectively at his friend.
The swatting friend had a piece of clothing in his hand and was too scared to come close enough to be accurate, so the floppy, swishing fabric did not dislodge the deadly monster.