Early Morning Predicaments: Segment III

Here Cometh the Flood

Falling in and out of a freezing and uncomfortable slumber, Brooke began to dream. She could the see headlights of a car coming up the road. It was stopping in front of her house! In the haze of her subconsciousness, she excitedly watched as a young man walked up to the truck. Jason, one of Brooke's friends (who was leaving for BYU), had come to her rescue!

"Hey!" He said. "So... I kept getting this really random image of you dressed as Princess Leah and calling out, 'Jason, you are my only hope.' I figured that, since I couldn't get your princess Leah-ness out of my head and the roads are kind of slick, I'd better check to see if you made it home okay."

"Jason! Princess Leah, huh? Telepathy really does work!!!" she happily spouted.

"What about Telepathy?"

"Umm, never mind"

"Ok...?" he replied, looking slightly confused. "But, if you don't mind my asking, what are you doing in there?"

"Oh, you know," she sarcastically answered. "A girl can't help but enjoy the luxury of sleeping in a Ford pick-up, once in a while. The Ameritel Inn charges a bank-load for one night in their 'Hitch-hiker's Abode' room, but I'm all about doing the real thing for free. First class dirty towels, old t-shirt coverlets, plastic arm-rest pillows, a glorious windshield view of the night sky.... It's the perfect sleeping arrangement!! NOT!"

She explained the truth of her situation to him and they shared a laugh as he proceeded to open her door. She was free, at last! Stepping down onto the icy pavement, she thanked him. "What a gallant thing for you to do, kind Sir... opening a lady's door and all." She giggled and enthusiastically hugged her liberator.

After their joyous embrace, Jason's nose suddenly began to shine. It beamed brighter and brighter, until his whole body was gone. It was as if, due to a case of spontaneous combustion, he had been reduced to nothing but fire. The next thing she knew, the setting and objects in her mind mutated until the ceiling of the truck blurred into view.

Waking from her dream, Brooke was glad to know that Jason hadn't really burst into flame. All lovely thoughts of him and his rescuing her were smothered, though, by the sad reality of her early morning predicament. Having found tape, in the jockey box, she had decided that sticking a piece of cardboard over the cab light would block most of the glare. This had assisted her in sleeping more comfortably. Apparently, though, her tape job had failed and the cardboard barely dangled above her. Having the light revealed again, disturbed her dream and she was anything but pleased. "So much for sleeping in darkness, not that I was really getting much sleep."

The inside of the car was cold enough, when she was exerting energy, but the chill worsened as she lay still. Wondering if a change in position would do her any good, she sat up. The vertical movement brought an unexpected pressure upon her bladder and she knew that, unless she could find some way to relieve herself in the next minute or two, the future of her dad's truck interior would not look or smell very pretty. She had managed to forget about her full bladder, until now. At this point, though, no manner of mind-control tactics could spare her.

With crossed legs, she looked about for some sort of container that would be suitable for the task that she dearly wished to perform. Boxes would not do; she was not about to deal with soggy cardboard. Plus, thoughts of the stench from an open box full of urine was enough to trigger her gag reflexes. The cranks of her creative brain were turning at high speed. Every object in sight suddenly became a science project. Could she somehow transform a flashlight into a toilet... ish... object. "No." How about a camera case? "Not really." Perhaps, a water bottle would do the job. "Or not," she snapped, wishing-- for the first time in her life-- that she was a boy. "If I could only aim!"

Concluding that her inventive skills lacked, she decided to give prayer another chance. After all, she had done what she could and was now in need of a serious miracle. "Please, Heavenly Father, I need your help!" she whispered. "Surely you love my daddy enough to save his car from an explosion of my bladder. I need to pee, like no other, and I need you to help me get out of this car before it happens! PLEASE!!!!!!!" She closed her little prayer in the name of the Savior and then tried her lot at using faith. Grabbing the handle, she took a deep breath, and pushed against the door.

Even without the use of thee's and thou's, Brooke's prayer was answered and the door flew open as if it were never jammed! Her response: "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU SOOOO MUCH!!!! I'm free... I have to pee, but I'm free! Yes!!! Bathroom, here I come!"

It may be hard to believe, but-- with the stinging wind-- the temperature outside of the truck felt lower than that of her previous imprisonment. She would almost prefer to remain huddled on the seat of the truck, but she knew that she needed only to trek to the backyard, through the sliding door and into the house to be warm and one step closer to emptying her gallons.

"I'm almost there" she encouraged herself, as she waddled over the icy ground. As she reached patio, snow began to fall. "Please be open," she pleaded, yanking on the sliding glass door. It flew open as easily as did the door to the truck (after her final prayer, anyways) and she felt a hint of warmth as heat found its way past the blinds. Her hands reached in, to move the blinds out of the way, and felt that a chair was blocking her path. "Are you kidding me?" she murmured. "Honestly!" Crouched on the ground, with every muscle in her body devoting itself to the cause, she wasn't sure if she could spare enough strength to push anything out of the way, without losing control.

Figuring that the chair would need to be moved for her to enter the house, whether she wet herself while moving it or not, she stood up. In a matter of seconds her muscles seemed to give up the fight. It was as if a dam had broken! A flood of pee burst forth with great force and in one full and continuous flow! A warm wetness rushed down her legs, darkening her jeans and forming a yellowish puddle in the snow. She was sure she'd never urinated so much in her life. If she hadn't stopped soon, her back yard might have become one very large frozen pond!

She was much relieved, when her tank had fully emptied and-- looking down at herself-- she easily converted feelings of embarrassment into gratitude. She would have preferred the comforts of her warm bathroom, but decided that it was definitely better to have a puddle of frozen Brooke Pee on the patio as opposed to a mess of nastiness on the carpet of the hallway.

The extra warmth felt nice, at first, but her clothes soon started freezing to her skin. Before any icicles had a chance to form, she stripped off her soaked clothes, pushed the chair out of her way, and streaked upstairs. Desperately, she hoped to remain unseen. In her opinion, running into her father (while sporting nothing but her birthday suit) would have been quite disturbing. "No thanks!" she thought, quickly tip-toeing to her bathroom. "I have had enough excitement for one morning."

After tossing her dirty clothes into the tub, she rinsed them and herself off with soap and water. She then readied herself for bed, peeled out her hardened contacts, and jumped into her gloriously soft bed. "It's over," she sighed with relief.

The clock on her bedside table read 6:04 a.m.. It had been hours since she had said goodbye to her friends and headed home. As she lay there, wrapped in three fluffy comforters, her thoughts replayed all of the events of the night. She smiled as she remembered how God had heard and answered her prayers. She had been very blessed. And what a story she would have to tell, if ever she was to give a talk on the power of prayer!!! Closing her eyes, she could picture her frozen puddle of pee and it made her laugh. "Try and catch me complaining about cold toilet seats, ever again," she whispered to her pillow as she hugged it tight and slipped peacefully into a restful sleep.

The End.

Early Morning Predicaments: Segment II

Failed Attempts at Telepathy

"Well this is quite the situation; now, isn't it? What more am I supposed to do?" Brooke piped, feeling more and more annoyed at herself (for getting locked in the car), her dad (for having a car with useless doors), and everyone/everything in the world (simply because she was not in a good mood).

She was sure that her parents would eventually stir (to go to the bathroom or something of the like), notice that the lights were left on and the door not locked, and decide to check on her. All, but the latter, of these thoughts were correct. As she sat in the lit truck, feeling like a fish in a fish tank, Brooke watched the house as the lights were switched off. Neither her mom nor dad came out to retrieve her and she was saddened as a bit of hope faded. Her parents must have seen her things and figured that, because it was so late, she had forgotten to lock the door and turn out the lights.

Many cars sped past and she tried to signal them. Sadly, though, no amount of flailing her arms or endeavors at flashlight Morse Code brought any of them to a stop. She thought about honking the horn and, as an omniscient narrator, I say that she definitely should have. For some reason (low blood sugar, exhaustion, or just plain old stupidity), she decided against the idea and focused on other things.

She began to pray for help: for the door to miraculously open, for someone to come to the rescue, for faith that things would turn out alright, and for some brilliant idea. Nothing seemed to happen-- even with her continuous attempts at slamming against the door, fitting keys, and channeling someone telepathically.

The scene from Star Wars, where Princess Leah is seen recording the message: "Obi-Wan Kenobi, you are my only hope," popped into her head. Surely she could send out some kind of thought wave. "Aren't all humans supposed to be connected spiritually , somehow? Come on, Heavenly Father, help a woman out. Send the Holy Ghost to inform others that I'm having issues, please." With that, she began to focus. She was bent on reaching possible rescuers with her thoughts. "Mike Lott" she said, trying to connect with her dad, "I know you're awake because I just saw you turn off the porch light. Now this may sound ridiculous, but I'm sitting out in your car and would be ever so grateful, if you could come and save me. Please, come and find me!" She repeated this process about a dozen times with several different people and then waited for results.

For what seemed like an eternity, nothing happened. Frustration welled up inside her and, all of the sudden, she burst into tears. Every harsh emotion she had been feeling (the stress of an up-and-coming music competition, the emptiness of having her friends leave for school, and etc.) seemed to combine until an emotional bomb formed and exploded. She hadn't had a good cry in ages and her negative energy had found a reason to surface. After a bout of sobs, she luckily found a roll of toilet paper and was able to take care of the after effects of crying .She then resumed her efforts at escape.

Having lost most of her motivation and noticing a dull ache in her shoulder, she decided to give up on body-slamming the stubborn door and turned her focus in another direction.--Sleep. She didn't have access to a clock, but she was sure that quite a bit of time had passed. And besides, she had been partying, non-stop, the past couple of weeks and her young body was yearning for some shut-eye.

Digging through her father's work supplies (piano hammers, tuning kits, and the like), she scrummaged up an old t-shirt and a dirty towel. Covering herself with these, she lay across the seat. Every position she formed was uncomfortable in some way or another, but she didn't care anymore. It was not like she had much of a choice and, seeing as how she was definitely spending the night in her dad's truck, she was determined to get some shut-eye!

Early Morning Predicaments: Segment I

This piece took longer to compose than I thought it would, but (as you can see) the below chunk of writing is rather lengthy (I hope that it isn't too long). At first, this story was to be sent to a friend, through email, but I decided that I'd spice it up by transforming it into an actual story in three parts. Writing about myself in the third person was harder than I originally thought it would be; though, I definitely enjoyed the challenge.

Anyways... Pull up a chair, pop some corn, and prepare yourself for my week's most interesting (if nothing else) adventure.


*clears throat*

Keys to Self-Confinement

Brooke clumsily fumbled through her purse. The air was cold and her hands, searching desperately for her keys, trembled while her body shivered. Her light jacket was barely able to keep the chill out, let alone, the warmth of her body in. Key now in hand, she unlocked her car and jumped in, closing the door behind her. Inserting the key into the ignition, she started the engine and instantly turned up the heat.

The car ride home was one of silence. Her mind was racing-- full of memories of the past and thoughts of the future. After pulling into the driveway, for a moment, she sat there and savored the heat as it rushed out of the vents and brushed against her skin.

Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against the steering wheel,as images from the past few weeks rolled into view. Christmas break had come and gone, for most of her friends, and it was time for them to go back to school. Because of this, she couldn't help feeling a bit depressed. It had been so wonderful to see her old chums and now the time for goodbyes had returned. She hated the thought of not being with them and equally loved the idea of their return. "Then again," she whispered to herself, "it seems like the more I'm with them, the more I become attached, and the harder it is to say goodbye."

At this, she sighed, turned off her car, got out, locked it, and headed into her house. Before she made it up the drive, though, something caught her eye. Turning around, she saw that her dad had left on his truck lights! She laughed, remembering other examples of his forgetfulness/ADHD and then went on into the house to snag a key to his car.

It was about midnight and her parents had already gone to bed. The Christmas tree gave a dim glow, but it was not enough light to assist her in such a quest. Hoping not to disturb her family, she flipped on a few lights, stashed her purse on the counter and began to look for her father's lunchbox (his basic man purse). Due to the fact that he usually carried it with him everywhere and used it to hold all of his things, she figured that it would be a good place to start. It would have been perfect, indeed, had the lunch box been in its usual location.

Instead of a pile of work clothes nestling it against the wall, next to the bathroom. Brooke found only carpet. Seeing the bathroom, though, she realized that it was about time to empty her bladder, but-- because there were more important things to accomplish, first-- she pushed this thought to the back of her mind and continued walking.

Being unsuccessful in spotting her dad's keys out in the open, she decided to check a few drawers and cupboards. Finally, in the kitchen, she came upon a bunch of random solo keys. "I've found the mother load," she sarcastically said as she gathered a handful and headed back out into the cold. "One of these had better work or his lights will just have to stay the way they are." Endeavoring to fit the key into the lock she urged every one of them on, in hope of a match. "Ugg! Come on, little buddy, please work... I have to pee and it's insanely cold out here!"

Finally, just as she was about to give up on the whole charade, the last key of her plethora actually fit into the lock. "I'm in!" she exclaimed. "Now, lets get down to business." Up and in she climbed. After habitually closing the door to her side, she noticed that it was mutilated and momentarily freaked. Reassuring herself, she recalled how her dad had rolled down his window each time he needed to open the door. Doing this made it possible for him to reach the handle from the outside. "No problem," she thought, "I'll turn on the car, fix the lights, and then roll down my window like Dad always does." She then reached into her pocket and grabbed the key that had let her into the truck. After jabbing it into the ignition, she was shocked to find that it wouldn't allow her to start the engine.

"Well, crap... Now what am I supposed to do?" Since it was impossible for her to unroll the window without having the truck running, she was forced to try the other door. It wouldn't let her out, either. The passenger-side door was open enough to keep the dome light lit, but not enough to be of any service. Remembering that she had only unlocked the one door, Brooke quickly clicked the button to unlock the passenger's side door, too. This didn't change a thing.

Pushing and pulling, she used every ounce of her strength to try and move the door enough so that it would either close or break open. She even attempted a few donkey-styled kicks with her feet. Nothing seemed to jar the door more than half and inch. Not even holding the handle and ramming her body against the door did much for her situation. Feeling completely helpless, she pulled out every single key from the pocket of her jacket and tried to squeeze them into the ignition. It was no use and, to her despair, none of them would fit well enough to start the car. As pathetic as it may seem, Brooke had locked herself in her dad's pick-up; she had opened and closed the door to her own self-confinement!