The Tale of The Killer, Ballistic Balloon

The other night, my wife and I had stayed up late reading a good story and spent the evening laughing and giggling. We were in a fine mood when we finally hit the sack.

I couldn't fall asleep right away, I was thinking about all kinds of stuff, as I often do, and was too wide awake until sometime around midnight, I had drifted off to dream land.

I was startled to consciousness around 12:25 a.m. I heard a scuffling noise that sounded like it came from inside our bedroom. My first instinct is to listen for more sounds, to see if my dream had caused the sound or if it was for real. I lie there, listening. Then came another sound, thud, right up against the wall next to me. It was like it was inside the room and my heart began to climb for my throat. Now hold on there, I thought, it could have been the dog lying down outside the house. He just plopped down and hit his back on the side of the house, or some thing. I drifted toward the place of dreams once again.

Dream land flitted past my brain like a butterfly in the wind as another thud, scrape, bump, shattered the dark. OK, this could be serious. There is probably a mouse in the room. I silently cursed the thousand cats we have around the farm. What if it's a rat? I wondered. That could be bad. I hate rats. Every time I see a rat, I have visions of all the evil cartoon rats I have ever seen in my life, thank you Disney. Mice, I can handle. Rats are venomous, evil, cheese stealin', knuckleheads with the voice of Paul Lynn (think "Charlotte's Web" cartoon).

I stayed put. I thought of getting my flashlight and searching the room, but that would mean I would have to put, not just my feet, but my BARE feet on the floor. Not gonna do it! Thud, scrape, scrape, bump, shuffle.

It has to be something outside. It was silent long enough for me to start the journey back to sleepyville, but it was a short trip. I heard the noise again and, this time, I thought of reaching for my gun. I will Clint Eastwood this rat! Go ahead, make that noise again, punk! God grabbed hold of me right about then and set me to thinking clearly again. I am not about to shoot a hole through the wall over a rat. Scrape, thud, bump yet again.

Enough is enough! I had all I can stand! Be a man! I told myself. I decided that I can reach the flashlight that was on my dresser without putting my feet on the floor (hey, I am not about to get bit by a killer rat, get my face planted on the front page as the guy who was attacked by the world's largest rat), and this I did.

Obtaining the desired light source, I positioned myself on the bed to be ready for a quick exit and let my sleeping wife deal with the killer rat. It was just about then that I saw the object of my racing heart and adrenaline rush at 12:30 in the morning, just after having trouble falling asleep and now won't be able to fall asleep again!

My eyes rolled back into my head, I lost all feeling in my feet and I choked on a gulp of air when I saw something jump from beside my night stand. I, then, fell back to my pillow realizing what I had seen.

My six year old daughter had been in our room that day with a balloon from her birthday a few days prior. The fan (it was hot that night) had been blowing it around in the corner. That was the source of the thud, bump, scrape sounds I was hearing.

I took the balloon a threw it, as hard as I could (you know, balloons don't go very far when thrown, no matter how hard) and it landed on my wife's side of the bed, where it could no longer be tormented by the wind of the fan.

No more noise. It was now about 1:00 a.m. and my wife was still sleeping soundly. I never disturbed her sleep once. She got a big laugh, at my expense, the next morning when I told her what happened. I didn't laugh, I was too tired.

Elisabeth laughed at me also saying, "I left the balloon there, daddy!" I patted her on the head and went on about my day, hoping that they would soon forget about that killer, ballistic balloon. I know I wanted to.