Should my head still be spinning for this long after I’ve disembarked, you disembodied voice of a god that I know actually belongs to some zit-fingered teenager behind a little glass shield pressing a poorly designed panel of buttons, such that you can both insulate your voice from the other guests still waiting in line for that deathtrap, as well as hide your microphone from their cries, shrieks, and giggles just outside of his little bubble, because my head keeps spinning, around and around, following every curve and loop I took in the four minutes and forty five seconds I was strapped into a pilot’s seat as though my life depended on it, because for that small stretch of time, it did; or should I wish that it would just stay still, that all the cars would stop, on all the other rides too, so that I could possibly get my bearings in this rainbow vomit cartoon that my kids dragged me into, against my will, because, “It’s your birthday daddy! Wouldn’t it be fun to go to Disneyland?” still holds some weight with me, and these kids know that they had better milk it while they can, because that baby talk isn’t going to work forever; or will my head eventually be still again, and letting me regain the good sense not to buy them ice cream?
Ben Shahon is a writer whose work has appeared in Stonecrop Magazine and Free Library of the Internet Void. He is a candidate in Emerson College’s MFA Program in Fiction, and holds BA’s in Philosophy and Creative Writing from ASU. Ben currently lives outside Boston.