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!