The "Help Me" Game
When I was little, I played a game in the car that, had my mother known about it, would have gotten me in possibly the biggest trouble ever.
Mom would be in the front seat, driving to the grocery store, the mall, wherever. I'd be hanging out in the backseat, like you do when you're that young.
Keep in mind, my imagination is nuts now; it was even more nuts back then. When I played this game, I was dead serious about it. As I entered the realm of make-believe, I left reality behind entirely; the game became my one and only reality.
I would lean over to the window, my hands flat against the glass (Mom was always wondering what required me doing that, I'm sure). My mouth would follow suit - or at least be very close to the glass, right between my hands - and I would mouth two words at passing vehicles, in the hopes that they would see.
Help me.
That's right, I used to make-believe that I had been kidnapped and was sitting in the backseat of this terrible car against my will, driven around by a stranger who was pretending I was her kid. In those moments, I wanted nothing more than to be rescued from my imaginary hell.
I'm just lucky no real strangers on the other side of the glass did.
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