Chapter Three | The fact that there is a chapter three makes me very upset

It is now a few days later and Saturday. I am making a mixed cd and awaiting a phone call, and thinking to myself, "It is 10p.m. If I had a TV I would be watching Simpsons right now.

Knock, Knock. Aaah @#$%.

"I just got a call from the sheriffs office. They say I have to come get my truck tonight or I will get a citation and it will be towed."

During the awkard, but expected silence that followed, I realized that this is a pet peeve of mine. That is, when someone needs something of you, but instead of asking, they just sit there and hope that you will offer whatever it is they need. And as bad as I wanted to hold out and make him ask, I couldn't take it anymore. I wonder if the agony showed on my face. I bet it did. I bet he saw it too, and thought, "I have him for sure."

"Well, Phil isn't home. He is at work." I didn't know that. He was earlier anyway. "We couldn't get it out with his Jeep anyway."

"The Sheriff's department pulled it out."

"Oh." These awkard silences are really starting to wear on me.

"You don't think your truck can make it up there?" Look at what happened to your truck dummy!

"No way."After a few phone calls we ended up borrowing Stefanie's Jimmy. She is my neighbor and Elle's roommate. Of course he didn't go over there with me to get the keys and stuff. I stalled over there for as long as I could. I tried to persuade her to come, because I had had enough alone time with my roommate to last me forever. She of course knew Ryan also, and declined in a very determined manner.

We had just about the same exact conversations on the way up that we did the last time we drove up the canyon. I wasn't in too poor of a mood. I was bugged that I had to drive him up the canyon, and I wouldn't receive that phone call, but at least we didn't have to pull out his truck. We would drive up and drive back, and I would be my myself on the drive back. This time the drive to his truck seemed to be about twice as long as last time, but we eventually made it to Duck Creek and then the dirt road and then the snow road, to his truck.

I stopped a bit away from where his truck was because I didn't want to get stuck. We walked up to his truck. The Sheriffs department, in their spirit of service, decided it would be a good idea to pull his truck out of the hole it was in, and plop it in another hole on the opposite side of the road. You know, then they could call us and tell us that they pulled it out, and when we got there we would find that they indeed did pull it out, but put it into a freaking ravine on the other side. What a gas. They sure got us this time.

"Well, we will have to go to that guys house and get my strap and come along."

"You know where he lives!?"

We went to the Jimmy to find that it was stuck. The four-wheel drive didn't work at all. Stefanie must not have known because I told her like three times that that is why we needed her car and couldn't take my truck. Now we were in a pickle. We didn't have gloves, hats, or coats because we thought I was just going to drop him off at his truck and come back. It is easily single digits way up there. We tried pushing and digging it out with a stick; it didn't go anywhere and only one tire was moving. I then caught a glimpse of a cabin through the trees and started hiking to it through knee deep snow. By the time I got there I was soaking wet. My feet weren't quite numb yet, so they really hurt. I looked all around for a shovel or something useful. I found a big long board underneath the cabin. While I was trying to weasel it out I heard Ryan scream, "Where'd you go?" I ignored him and tried to get the board out. He yelled again. "Shutup!" I said to myself outloud. The third time I yelled back and told him I was coming. We wedged the board under the the tire to try and give it some traction. It didn't work at all.

"We will have to go to that guy's house. It's down the road a ways, but it is our only option. It's down the road a ways, but it's really our only option." After hearing him say this again I started working vigorously. The last thing I wanted to do was start walking down the road but I eventually gave in. It was also at this time that I started making up my own swear words. The strongest curses I could think of could not sufficiently represent my frustration. They just couldn't do my anger justice. So, I made up these words and pretended that they were really horrible and strong. I don't remember most of them, but I know Dagle and Snart were two of them. I realized Dagle didn't work. All the great curse words have good hard consonants. Dagle started off ok with the D sound, but didn't really go anywhere from there, so I adapted and made sure my words were more harsh sounding. On the way down I asked why we didn't get the strap and come along on the way up, or the other day when we had the Jeep. His answer was that if he had thought about it we would have. How could you not think about it? If someone takes your stuff and you know where it is, don't you go get it? That would have shaved off hours from this excursion.

And then he said laughing, "Don't you just hate stuff like this?" I couldn't quite pin point why this made me so mad.