Spiral Friction

Wandering a few blocks past the morning crosswalk brought me to an empty pocket park with a bright yellow spiral slide. Leaving a two-story plastic chute untested would have been downright negligent. I scrambled up the metal rungs, parked myself at the summit, and gave the entrance rim a solid shove. The drop was faster than advertised. My plush overalls practically water-skied down the slick curves, banking hard around the turns before ejecting me cleanly onto the rubber mulch below. The real comedy hit when I stood up: the friction had charged every fiber of my fur. Both of my ears were stuck rigidly upright, crackling with static and covered in stuck dry leaves.