He called out and tried to raise his right arm. Joe felt his stomach roll like a wind-tossed rowboat as he opened his eyes and opted to close them again. His head spun, and waltzed around the elevator in his stomach. He tried to speak but no words came, sobbing instead of shouting out and forced himself to roll over onto his back but it made it worse; he turned over again and succeeded in waving his hand, surely someone would notice. He needed and pleaded help.
He felt someone make a grab for one of his writhing legs and fingers grasped his foot. Something was happening; his head was starting to feel attached once more and his stomach gave in to lazy rolls. He opened one eye, the world continued to dance around him but it was slowing, he could see that. Lying face down he edged himself backwards, his feet finding nothing but air for a few seconds before touching the ground. He tried to stand but his legs gave way and he fell, and let his body find the cold, hard comfort of the ground.
He heard laughter as he rummaged in his pocket for a two-pound coin then handed it over. The boys from year ten had already found another victim.
“Oi shorty, bet ya two quid you can’t stay on the roundabout for five minutes.”