|Oh, the melodrama!
I was trapped. This overhang kept me from climbing up the way I'd slid down. How embarassing - not even lunchtime, and I was trapped and needing help! I didn't even have any decent injuries to justify needing assistance, just a few scrapes and shallow cuts that were already scabbing over. I finally realized what Stephen Crane had meant by the title of his book "The Red Badge of Courage". Then it started to rain. I got all emo and Tara-like. Woe is me - I'm trapped here, never to get home! It'll be dark before the park service notices I haven't logged back in and come looking for me, and it will be so humiliating! I put on my fleece jacket and rain poncho, and started blowing my emergency whistle in sequences of three at one-minute intervals. I used the notebook Honey had sent me to inventory what I had (plenty of food and water, plenty of warm clothing, plush animals to use as pillows). I blew my whistle. I wrote several hideously embarassing postcards to my parents. I blew my whistle. It stopped raining, so I took off the poncho. It immediately started raining again. I blew my whistle. I dug out my testicles from where they had burrowed into my abodmen. They ached immensely. I blew my whistle. I dug a latrine and used it. I looked for edible food products, and found only eucalpytus. I searched for water, and found a small trickle that I could use when my supplies ran low. I blew my whistle, and for variety started shouting "CooooEEEEEEEEEEE!" the way a tour guide had shown me. It was embarassing at first, but less hard on my ears than whistling (it was a FoxPro emergency whistle, and LOUD). I grew adept at plugging my ears while blowing my whistle. I had earplugs, but didn't want to use them in case anyone called back. I blew my whistle.