Kathi & The Spinning Spider

Ron Androla

“You're faaaa-aaaatttt!” I scream at my sister. “Get off me!” I'm in serious pain. Our father is sitting on the other end of a whirly, spinning carnival ride; he crushes Kathi into my side, too. He doesn't realize it. He's smiling & psyched, pumped & gleeful. Centrifugal forces make our round car really twirl. Kathi begins to cry as the spinning ride slows. I think I'm bleeding in the same spot Jesus was speared. I'm 7. My sister's 5. Organ music blares from speakers bolted into the center of The Spinning Spider.

Dad finally looks at us. “What's the matter?” The smile begins to drop from his lips as he looks at his kids.

Kathi sobs like a big fat baby as the ride dips & ends. I pull up my t-shirt to show him what Kathi did to me, “& that's why I'm mad!” People emerge from their slippery seats & follow the circular outer walkway, all excited & talkative.

“Get out of this goddamn car, & shut the hell up! That cut ain't nothin'!” Dad lowers his face to Kathi's level. “Are you okay, princess?”

He picks her up as he exits the ride. She whimpers, wet & snotty, on his shoulder. Over my father's shoulder, Kathi sticks her fat tongue out at me – only I see it. She squeezes Dad's neck more, which expands his love for his little princess.

Issue 1 : Fall, 2016