"Because I soiled myself on Walt Disney World's Tower of Terror, circa 2007."
by Taurenelle
I was tall enough, which, to the almighty mouse, meant I was old enough, and my dad was fond of things that plummeted: his marriage, my blood sugar, the windowless deathbox carrying his eleven-year-old son.
My pants were dry when the groaning lift ascended. Flickering lights and utter darkness shared custody of my father’s grin as our urgently-eaten Moroccan meal continued to massacre my metabolism.
But then—
—I had a falling out
with gravity,
with my bowels,
with the man who never listened.
Fabric seats offered no ambiguity; the sealed chamber, no ventilation.
###
“So…that’s why I take the stairs.”
Sign up for the Newsletter!
I get it. Who needs another newsletter? Well, I polled all your friends, and apparently, you do! This one comes with novellas, sample chapters, whiskey recommendations, and giveaways. Plus, one in every seven hundred thousand subscribers gets magical abilities. So...totally worth it.
