“What do you mean, Michaela!” A phrase that could have thousands, maybe even millions of answers. Some simple like, “Oh, I just wanted a pencil.” Some are the complete opposite: “x³+y³+z³=k.” I don’t know where to categorize my fretful response, “My head is stuck, Daniel, I can’t get it out.” This might not seem that absurd; I mean, who hasn’t gotten stuck somewhere before? But the real catch is the location in question; “Where is it stuck?” he warily questioned. Before I tell you my response, I should probably tell you how I got there and why asking for help is so important.

“Let's go, Minnie!” I joyously exclaimed as my meager dog finally snatched the spherical yellow ball out of the air. We must’ve been there for centuries before she finally succeeded, but all that mattered was that she caught it. I decided that I needed to document this, so I pulled out my phone and clicked the circular button, beginning the recording. I made a lofty toss of the ball in the direction of my small companion, which she jumped to receive.

I don't know how the following sequence occurred, but it felt sorcerous, like something out of the movie Matilda. The ball gained a mind of its own, playfully jumping from the couch to my other dog's nose, to the wall, and finally arriving at its destination dead center underneath the couch. I sighed in disbelief; how did that just happen? Of course, I wasn’t going to leave my fluffy companion, who had already strutted over to the couch, with no ball. I traveled over to the couch, leaving my phone on the table nearby. I crouched down and saw the ball staring right back, almost as if it was taunting me.

I wasn’t going to let a rubber toy intimidate me. I stretched my arm into the oblivion underneath the couch, only to come back empty handed. I attempted the same thing over and over again but to no avail. I needed a new strategy. There weren't many options, as there was no way for me to push the couch, due to my ankle being out of commission after I sprained it recently. I wasn’t going to get a stick, which probably would’ve been good, but I was lazy. Therefore, I decided to go for the only other option that seemed available, absolutely shoving myself under the couch until I could reach my goal.

Was it a good idea? Absolutely not. Should I have rethought it? Definitely. But did it work? That’s up for you to decide. I committed to the decision and pushed myself under that couch until I could no longer continue and reached for the ball. I had no struggle with this because I had pushed myself way further than I had estimated. After adapting to my surroundings, I rolled the ball out from under the couch for my dog to retrieve it. I could see her jump down happily, scoop it up, and strut away with her ball. Although this new unseen perspective underneath the couch was unique, it wasn’t luxuriating, so I emphatically jerked my head back so I could escape whatever this situation was; what came next wasn’t a happy ending.

Although I pushed with all my might, my head was adhered to this position; it was like someone glued my head there. My head was facing forward enough that I could see the light from outside the couch, but my head was pressed in between the cool floor and the rigid furniture. Initial shock subsetting, the smell of pure dust swiftly permeated my nose. I had actually gotten my head stuck under a couch; what would my mom think of me now? Well, I wasn’t going to figure that out anytime soon as she had gone out for dinner with my family. I was left alone with no phone and zero ways of communicating, except for my little dog who had since moved on from the ball to a bone.

Panic set in, and I began flailing around, regretting all my decisions in life and wondering if I was going to get out of here. I could imagine the newspaper headline already, ‘GIRL DIES AFTER GETTING HER HEAD STUCK UNDER A COUCH.’ Even after all of the writhing around, I had made no progress, except for just exhausting myself, but maybe that was a good thing because it actually made me think. I had left my phone on the table right in the paradise of outside the couch; maybe I could actually have a use for this stupid, bulky, boot intended for my sprained ankle. I yanked my foot into the air and kept hitting the table until I heard the majestic sound of my phone falling on the ground.

I don't think that was one of my smartest ideas either, but at least this one benefitted me. Breath hitching, I scraped the floor with my foot until I finally hit the phone far enough into the couch that I could pick it up. I wasn’t about to call my mom and tell her that she needed to come home so that she could drag my stupid self out from under a couch, so I did the next best thing; I swiped until I could finally see the little phone symbol and called the only person that seemed right in this situation, my cousin, Daniel.

“Please pick up. Please pick up. Please pick up!” I begged until I finally heard his snide voice on the other end.

“Bro, what do you want?”

I didn’t have time to rebut his moody response before I just blurted out the situation: “I got my head stuck under a couch, Daniel, help!” Now that you know the context of this conversation I’m sure you understand the urgency in both our voices.

“What do you mean, Michaela?”

 It was honestly a fair question, but my panicked self wasn’t in the mood, so I responded with, “My head is stuck, Daniel, I can’t get it out!” There was no doubt in my mind that he had thousands of questions, but I think he realized that there was no point in asking, so he immediately went into panic mode.

“Where is it stuck?”

I wish I had a better response, but I had to respond with “under a couch.”

I’m pretty sure he could sense the regret in my voice, so he didn’t insult me and replied, “Uh, uh, have you tried pushing yourself out?”

“Of course I have, Daniel!” That definitely put a stop to the questions; he immediately just scrambled for a response and somehow picked a good one.

“Okay, how about you put your ankle against the wall and push yourself out?” I had no idea what he could possibly be advising, but I just tried the best I could to imitate it. I placed my good ankle against the wall and put all my vigor into it. I was moving!! Body trembling, I pressed my foot into that wall so hard that I was surprised it didn’t just collapse on the spot, and somehow I sprang out of that uncomfortable abyss. I grabbed the phone and turned on the camera only to see my hair going every direction possible and Daniel staring right back at me, laughing his head off. Any other situation I would’ve insulted him immediately, but after that I had no other choice but to laugh as well.

This might not have been a life or death situation; I could’ve easily stayed under there for an hour until my parents came home, but I didn’t. Even though I was scared for people to call me stupid, I knew that calling someone for help was the right choice. Should I have been there in the first place? No, but did I do the right thing subsequently? I like to think so. Calling for help might be scary sometimes, even if it’s something simple like asking for a pencil, yet it’s extremely rare for something bad to spring out of it. Sure, you might be called unprepared; I was definitely called stupid after this incident. But that’s not going to matter after, and maybe you might even get a pencil for it.

 

 

 

 

-Michaela L.