At first, Marcia thought she was imagining things. Her phone battery was underneath the television stand, there was no way it could be ringing. But then she realized-- it wasn’t her phone at all. It was the house phone.
Whirling around, she dashed over to kitchen counter, fumbling for a second with her numb fingers but still managing to punch the speaker phone button.
“Hello, this is Emergency Services. Someone from this location contacted us approximately three minutes ago. Is everything alright?”
Marcia was stunned. “No! No please! You have to send help!” she yelled, trying to contain her excitement.
“Okay, ma’m, calm down. What seems to be the problem?”
“You have to send help! You have to send—HEE HAW!” Marcia gasped. No… it couldn't be. Anything, please, anything but that. Not now, when she was so close to being rescued.
The operator on the other line paused. “Ma’m, is this some sort of joke?”
“NO! No, it’s not a joke! Please, you need to send HEE HAW! He-He—HEE HAW!”
“911 is an emergency service, not the butt of adolescent humor,” the operator said dryly, “Please do not call again unless you have an emergency.”
The next sound was a dial tone.