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Since her birthday party (around the beginning of June), my sister has had a couple of helium balloons hanging around the ceiling of her bedroom. They're the sort that is a kind of flattened shape, rather than the more traditional rounded one, and both have happy face motifs; one has a whole crowd of faces, and the other, the one I'm concerned with today, has just one large one on each side, bordered by generic busy party colours. Until today, they've seemed quite content to stay there, mostly motionless, very slowly deflating.
Tonight I was heading back up to the kitchen after briefly being downstairs -- I was going back to prepare myself some iced cream, if you must know, since right now we have the unusual luxury of having both iced cream and waffle cones in the house -- and that balloon was there, hanging driftily about the living room landing, at right about my eye level. "That's kind of creepy," I said, but, since I wasn't expecting a reply and was expecting shortly to eat iced cream, continued upstairs without much further consideration.
Perhaps thirty seconds or a minute later, I glanced over in that direction and saw that it was climbing the stairs. Well, okay: to be accurate, it was drifting up the stairs. Slowly cresting the stairs; I could already see its eyes and all its smile. When I saw it on the landing I could have sworn that it wasn't perceptibly in much motion at all, but now it clearly had a firm momentum in my direction.
I hesitated, and went over, and grasped it by its tassle, and led it back down to my sister's room. It made no overtly hostile motions; its expression remained unperturbed. Her door was shut, and she hadn't noticed that it was gone. She says that it got out before, though, earlier today; the dog was barking at it.
I'm really not sure we can trust that balloon.
Tonight I was heading back up to the kitchen after briefly being downstairs -- I was going back to prepare myself some iced cream, if you must know, since right now we have the unusual luxury of having both iced cream and waffle cones in the house -- and that balloon was there, hanging driftily about the living room landing, at right about my eye level. "That's kind of creepy," I said, but, since I wasn't expecting a reply and was expecting shortly to eat iced cream, continued upstairs without much further consideration.
Perhaps thirty seconds or a minute later, I glanced over in that direction and saw that it was climbing the stairs. Well, okay: to be accurate, it was drifting up the stairs. Slowly cresting the stairs; I could already see its eyes and all its smile. When I saw it on the landing I could have sworn that it wasn't perceptibly in much motion at all, but now it clearly had a firm momentum in my direction.
I hesitated, and went over, and grasped it by its tassle, and led it back down to my sister's room. It made no overtly hostile motions; its expression remained unperturbed. Her door was shut, and she hadn't noticed that it was gone. She says that it got out before, though, earlier today; the dog was barking at it.
I'm really not sure we can trust that balloon.
