craschworks

I was at the Laundromat last Tuesday. It was around 11:00 p.m. I had just finished washing some clothes for the Hurrydate the following day.

My cell phone rang. It was my Dad.

Normally, this wouldn't be strange, except that my parents were on a two week long road trip to see my sister Rachel and her husband Ted in Phoenix, then to see my sister Heather and her husband Jay in Fort Collins, then back to Idaho.

Moreover, they're almost always in bed by 11:00 p.m.

[Me, surprised] Hi Dad, what's up?

[Dad, relieved] Hi Son, are you all right?

“Yeah…why do you ask? What are you doing up so late?”

“Well, your sister Jen called. She said that she got a call from you, but that there was no answer. All she could hear for several minutes was a vigorous rustling sound. Then at the end, she thought she hear someone whisper, '…help me…' She freaked out. She thought you were getting killed. So she called me to check up on you.”

“Well, I had my cell phone in pocket. I tried to call Jen earlier, and her number was still in memory. I probably accidentally pressed the dial button when I was getting my keys out of my pocket. The rustling sound she heard was my phone getting jostled in my pocket as I was moving clothes around.”

“Yeah, that's probably it.”

“I have a question though–why didn't she call me directly?”

“She didn't want to hear you getting killed.”