True rolled over and glared at the hysterically shrieking alarm clock. She groaned as she sat up and stretched, then quieted the annoying little buzzer.
"Shut the heck up, you stupid piece of snot! I'm up!" she grumbled as she rolled out of bed. She felt her way to the light switch and flicked it on. The light assailed her eyes as she went to the closet and took out her uniform.
"Oh, beautiful," she said as she tossed it onto the unmade bed. She showered, dressed, and then beat it out the door, on her way to her volunteer job at the St. Mary's Medical Center.
The drive was long--all the way into Tulsa, in fact--but True didn't mind. She loved driving, and she was very proud of her 1989 Plymouth Sundance that she had bought with the earnings from her summer job as a Mickey D's cook. It didn't go very fast, but it was a neat color and it was the first thing that had ever belonged solely to her.
Her beeper went off.
"Dammit, I'm not late yet!" she muttered. Then she realized it wasn't the hospital that was paging her, it was her father.
She pulled out her cell phone and dialed her dad's number. It ranged four times before her father picked up.
"Bradford speaking."
"It's me, dad." True said, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice. "What do you need?"
"I need you to forward a package that's coming in the mail to me. I'll need it tomorrow."
"Dad, I can't, I'm on my way to work."
"Surely you can do both. I'll be expecting it soon."
"But..." Her father hung up in her ear. True screamed with frustration and threw the phone into the front seat.
"Dammit all to hell! True was furious. Nevertheless, she had learned long ago that it was not worth it to disobey her father. So she turned around and drove to the post office.
"May I help you?" The clerk was a mean old lady with a perma-scowl on her face.
"I hope so. My father is Arnold Bradford, and he's expecting a package here today that he wants me to forward to him."
The old lady took her mean little time about it, first wanting ID, then having trouble finding the package. Finally, however, the package was found, and sent on it's way to her father, at the expense of her lunch money. Not to mention maybe her job, as she was now about 45 minutes late.
True sighed as she got back into her car and drove as fast as legality would allow (okay, maybe a little faster) and arrived at work an hour late.
"Wonderful. Thanks dad." She sighed and parked the car.
