The following transcriptions are taken from two voicemails my dad received yesterday evening, which were left by my terribly distraught mother. The first was left accidentally, while the second was a direct plea for help. I think the dialogue speaks for itself, but I'll establish the setting before we begin.

We are safely parked on the shoulder of a highway at about 5:30pm on a bright and sunny Tuesday evening between Frederick and Mt. Airy, Maryland. Someone had just pulled over and approached my mom"s car asking if she needed help. Here is her response:

"This car died on me... The car died on me... I took the government car home... I'm supposed to go to the Eastern Shore tomorrow... So, I just, I just called my husband, I think he's on his way... ya know... I need to call, I guess, a tow truck, but, uh... I don't know ... I think I need to call Buzzard's there on Route 40... for this car... So, I don't know, I'm okay, though... He'll be comin'... He's supposed to be comin' from home and he should be here any minute... I appreciate ya stoppin' though... Okay... Okay, thanks a lot... Okay.”

A LONG PAUSE, followed by a DEEP EXHALE, then this:

"Lord help me, Jesus, God, Pleeeeease."

About twelve seconds later, he received this message:

"Hey, it's me again, I'm hopin' you're gonna be here soon... Some guy from State Highway just stopped to see if I needed any help, but I told him that you were on your way... And I'm scared to death... Cars are just BLOWIN’ by me with these big TRUCKS... And um... So, anyway... I don't know why you aren't pickin' up... I have to keep leavin' messages here... I was scared when the guy stopped, then I realized he was State Highway and I guess it was okay... But anyway... I hope you'll be here soon... Bye."

Epilogue:

My dad arrived eleven minutes later to pick up my mom, then a tow truck arrived to take the car to Buzzard’s.

THE END.