Funnel of Fear
By Lynda Schab
The only thing worse than being cooped up in a mini van with my family for three days was knowing that I would soon be trapped in a three bedroom bungalow with my cousins, who were a bunch of Bible-thumping Jesus freaks. In the meantime, if my mom and sister sang, "Open the Eyes of my Heart, Lord," one more time, I swore I would open my door and fling myself out onto the highway.
I thought about the joint in my suitcase and craved a hit. I fidgeted with my MP3 player and wished I could crank up some Black Sabbath tunes. But the battery was dead and daddy dearest refused to stop and buy more.
I wished I were dead about now.
Submitted by
Lynda Schab
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