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Page 5

Rebecca Fraser

“What are you waiting for, Adam? Give her a spin! Let’s see what floor you’ll be playing with today.”

I spin the wheel with fingers that feel like ice. Round and round it goes. The metal flapper makes a noise ticker-ticker-ticker as the words spin in a black-and-red blur. The audience cranes forward in anticipation.

Ticker-ticker. As it slows I can read other words: Lava. Razor Blades. Crocodiles. Electricity. Cobras. Pitchforks.

Tick-er-tick-er-tick. The wheel comes to a halt.

Tick. The flapper clicks onto its final word.

(oh god oh god oh god)

“Well, Adam, it looks like you’re going to have your work cut out for you today,” Bannerman waggles his eyebrows at the audience.

As the audience howl laughter, I can only stare at the words on the chocolate wheel: Chain Saws.

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