Purpose Pt.3

It was a funny site to behold in that living room.  Had you passed through, you’d have seen a little girl sitting in the center of a large couch.  Though she wasn’t very heavy, the softness of the cushions caused her to sink down, forming a V like pattern along the sides of the sofa.

Her eyes were moist, recovering from a good cry.  But she was fine now.  In the center of her head was a giant blue band-ade, stuck there by her mother.  In her hands she clasped the balloon.  It to had a giant blue band-aid on it as well, stuck over its gaping hole.

The girl’s mother had heard her son’s desperate cries earlier and ran outside to find her battered daughter.  With a swiftness of her own, she had repaired the girls wounds and went to work on the balloon.  She taped it shut, then plastered the ban-aid over it (the young girl was convinced this was the only way).

Afterwards she untied the ballons string and blew into the wailing rubber piece.  While it never achieved its large glory from before, it now looked like a balloon.

“I suppose I should be happy,” it thought as it sat there in the girl’s arms, “But now I can no longer float!  What is a balloon that cannot float?  Oh I wish I could start over again!”

The young girl was watching television at the moment, mesmerized by its floating colors.  The dancing dinosaur purged her brain, flushing out the day’s horrid events.  She sang along for a awhile, then crossed her legs.

She then sang again, tightening her legs harder.

Commercials passed and she continued to squeeze them together.  10 minutes passed, and she now looked like a pretzel, her body wavering back and forth.

Then the dinosaur poured some water on the plants in his television garden.

That did her in.

She jumped off the couch and rushed towards the bathroom, throwing the balloon into the air.  It floated down gently and landed on the floor.

Completely by itself, the balloon laid there, pondering its existence.  The room was quite, except for the static of the television and the bubbling of the fish tank.

However, this didn’t last long.  The girls brother had entered the room.  He was sick of buckets and wanted something else to do.

He saw the balloon.

First he looked left.

Then He looked right.

Then he looked under the couch (Always look under the couch).

When the coast was clear he snatched it up and ran outside.  For the next few joyous moment he bounced the balloon into the air like a volley ball.  Boing…Boing…Boing.

As the world rattled around the balloon, it had an epiphany.  Perhaps its existence wasn’t to fly, maybe that was only a small part of it.  Perhaps it’s existence was to make these children happy.  Even now, in its fluffy lifeless state, it was making a child laugh.

The boy continued to bounce it along (knowing full well his sister would soon be there, ruining all his fun).  With this in mind he bounced it faster and higher.  More faster and higher.  Even more faster and higher.

The balloon looked down at the peaks of its flight, each time marveling that it was much higher then ever before. The ballon was overjoyed.

Now this was happiness!

“Chris!!!!” came a blazing scream.  “Thats my balloon, give it back!”  The jig was up.  The young boy snatched it from the air, and began running from his sister.

“No! he yelled, “Stay away Caroline!”

I suppose the best way to start a tornado is to take two children and place them in a setting where they van chase each other in a giant circle.  Add to that the importance that brother must not be caught, and you get a mighty wind sweeping around.

Faster and faster they ran, the girl screaming the entire time (It really is the sister’s fault for screaming, because thats what made teasing her so fun).  The boy chuckled as he ran.  But he was younger.

Thats being his said, his legs were quite wobbly and unable to stay in front of the chase as well as they should be.  He pushed and pushed for speed, but his sister was catching him.  In desperation he pushed again, but this time he fell.




That is the sound of a ballon popping from the weight of a boy falling on it, followed by the weight of his sister jumping on him, followed by the the air of the balloon screaming through the freshly made whole were a band-aid used to be.

It was flat now.  A mere piece of plastic.

The girl, extremely unhappy, hit her brother and ran off.  The brother, not doing too much betetr, screamed, and ran inside the house.

Then the balloon just laid there…

What was it’s purpose now?

With a quiet atmosphere surrounding and a complete absence of children, rubber tears formed on the plastic.  In the entirety of one hour it had lived its life.

It laid there for days, maybe even weeks, in solitary confinement.  Occasionally the boy or girl came outside, but they took no notice of the balloon.

During that period it was rained on, stomped on, and generally abused.  The balloon had given up.  It was ready to pass on.

But one day a robin appeared and snatched it up.

I gotta go!

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