My Plan to Stop the Balloon-Eating Clouds of the World (Story #10)

Have you ever noticed how many balloons—especially the red ones—float up into the sky, leaving behind crying little kids?  Some people say it’s natural, that the little kids’ hands just seem to let go.  Those people are wrong.   They never ask little kids what happened, which is kind of dumb if you ask me.  Children don’t “just” let their balloons go.  What sense does that make?  The truth is that kids are being tricked, hoodwinked, bamboozled, and other big words like that.

By who?  You ask.

The answer is not a who, but a what.  It’s all about the clouds—the balloon-loving clouds to be exact.

Another thing people—and by people, I mean old people—don’t know: there are a lot of different kinds of clouds in the sky.  None of them are very nice, but only one type is what you’d call mean.  Mostly, clouds are kind of dumb, actually.  They’re like my older sister.  They’re really into the way they look.  They don’t have mirrors like my sister, but I’ve noticed they like to float over lakes a lot.  I guess if you don’t have hands or a mirror, then water is a pretty good spot to look at yourself in.

Then they’re the rain clouds.  They seem to like getting everyone wet at the worst possible times.  That’s what my mom says.  And sometimes I know they get carried away, which causes floods and other bad things.  So they’re kind of mean, I guess.  But compared to the balloon-lovers, even rain clouds are ok.

Kids already know that some clouds are mean.  We know a lot of things.  We talk to each other about those things, too.  But I think when get older, we just forget.  Usually by the time we’re about ten—that’s what I’ve noticed.  Before that, we always remember the times when the balloon-loving clouds talk to us.  It always happens the same way.  One minute, we’re holding our balloons behind us, and then something tells us to let the string go.  Our parents start yelling at us, wondering what we’re thinking cause just a second ago, we were so happy and now we’re crying.  Most of us, we can’t answer because we’re not really sure ourselves.  Something in the air said we should let our balloons go up into the sky because it’s better that way, and because we’re trying to be good, we listen.

It goes without saying that something should be done about these mean balloon-loving clouds.   Kids are getting blamed by their parents and balloons are being stolen.  It’s not fair.  So, I’ve decided I’m going to do something.  Someone has to.

The only thing is I have to do it tonight. Being 9 years and 364 days old, I only have a few more hours before I forget the balloon-loving clouds and all the mean things they do. I first thought of what I was going to do about the clouds when I was in Ms. Jaco’s class last year.  She made us read some stories about Greek Gods, which were ok, I guess.  I really only liked the one with the wooden horse that had all the soldiers in it.  I thought it was a cool trick.  You let the enemy think you’re something they want, and then, bam!  You trick them.  That’s what I’m going to do.  I’m going to trick those mean balloon-loving clouds the way they trick us kids.

So this is my plan, and I am hoping you don’t tell my folks about it because that would really suck.  I am going to get a big balloon, I mean, a really big balloon so that I can fit inside it, and then I’m going to tie that balloon to like the gazillion other balloons that I’ve been buying with my allowance for like the last month.  Then I’m going to get my big sister to stop looking at herself in the mirror for a minute so she can let me and all the balloons go up into the sky.  Once I get up there to where the balloon-loving clouds live, I’m going to see where they keep all the balloons they’ve been stealing from all those kids, and then, yup, I’m going to let them all go.  It’s going to be great.  The stupid clouds will be too busy with all the balloons I’m coming up with, so they won’t even notice probably.

It’s not going to be easy.  I know that.  I know some balloons are going to die.  Just like those guys in the wooden horse.  I’m sure some of them died when they got out to attack.  I know I’m going to pop some of the balloons myself, or else, I’ll never get back down in time for dinner, which would really suck because I think mom’s making meatloaf tonight and because there’s cake and ice-cream afterwards.

But I’m willing to take the risk.  Someone’s got to do something about all those balloons up there.  My stupid sister’s not going to.  My parents aren’t going to.  And if I don’t do it before I turn ten, I’m not going to do it, either.  Wish me luck.

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Categories: fiction

Author:the circular runner

g. martinez cabrera currently lives in San Francisco with his lovely and talented wife. He holds degrees from Columbia and from the Harvard Divinity School where he spent three years thinking about lofty things. Since then, he tries to write some lofty and some not-so-lofty things down so others can see how lofty he sometimes is. When he’s not writing or spending time with said wife, he tortures young people with learning. He blogs at www.circularrunning.wordpress.com and Tumbls at www.circularrunning.tumblr.com

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