“It’s happening again.” The words struggled to leave my mother’s mouth as she stood, shaking in the kitchen. My brother, Jimmy and I eyed her curiously. Before we could respond, my father stood up and asked her, “Are you sure?” His typically charismatic and whimsical tone now buried beneath a new voice built from panic and concern.
“Yes… I’m sure.” She replied.
My father stood still for a moment in disbelief, whispered something to my mother, then turned to face us. “Boys, there’s a man coming to town. You’re going to see him around. Maybe in the street, maybe on a park bench, maybe even in the corner of your bedroom at night.”
I looked at my bother and was met with a mirrored reflection of confusion. We looked back to my father. “Listen to me boys, no matter what he looks like this time DO NOT mention anything about his appearance.”
My mind raced, unsure if my parents were losing their collective minds or if this was some sort of out-of-character joke they were playing. I spoke up, breaking the silence.
“Dad, what are you talking about? Who is coming to town?”
My father approached us, he placed one hand on Jimmy’s shoulder and the other on mine. “I know this doesn’t make a lot of sense, or any sense for that matter. But, I need you both to be strong and mature for me, okay? If you see a man around town that looks…different… promise me you will not say anything about how he looks. Not to me, not to your mom, not to each other or anyone. Not even a whisper. Got it?”
Jimmy and I looked to each other and back to dad. We nodded.
The next few days proceeded like normal. We went to school, came home, and played outside with our friends. Mom and Dad never brought-up that night. For some reason, we never felt like bringing it back up to them.
I went to bed that, content – not knowing that tomorrow would lead to the most horrific experience of my life.
The school bus stopped at the corner. Jimmy and I raced home to drop-off our backpacks and grabbed our baseball gear. We were meeting the other guys at the diamond for a pick-up game. The weather was perfect… I’ll never forget that.
Jimmy and I rode as fast as we could pedal down the street and onto the sidewalk. We arrived at the diamond to find the other guys already waiting for us. We ditched our bikes and sprinted onto the field.
When it was my turn to bat, I recited the words my dad had taught me. “Hands back, eye on the ball, swing though the ball.” I repeated my mantra as the ball came in. The second the bat made contact; I knew that I had crushed it. The ball soared into the sky to the depths of left field.
Mike was fast, but even as the fastest kid on the block – he couldn’t catch this one. He sprinted towards the ball as it came crashing back down to earth as I ran the bases. I grinned ear-to-ear as I rounded third to home.
Then, the cheers from my team ended abruptly as the world seemed to pause and silence. We all looked in unison towards left field. The baseball sat at the feet of a man - at least what resembled a man. Mike stood and stared, glancing back at us. We all inched closer for a better look. The thing that stood in the field wore a black suit jacket, black pants, and a top hat. But… It wasn’t a man at all…
It was… in all respect… a balloon.
Someone had tied together a series of balloons to create a sort of balloon-animal-human-being and dressed it clothes. The bulbous yellow head was oversized with red balloon eyes and a big, blue grin. It had a green nose sticking out like a ripe cucumber and what looked to be drawn-on ears.
Mike burst out laughing, breaking the silence. A sound I will never forget. He dropped to the grass and rolled in hysterics. He got back up and stared the balloon creature in its inflated eyeballs.
“Is THIS the man our parents have been so scared of!? “A FUCKING BALLOON.” His roaring laughter continued.
Despite it being very windy that day, the balloon man didn’t even flinch. It just stood, grinning its blue grin. Mike poked the balloon man with his finger and jolted back, grabbing his finger in pain. Jimmy tugged me by the shirt. “I think we should go home.” I nodded in agreement.
We rode home in silence. At dinner, we did not mention the incident. Tension filled the kitchen, like our parents already knew. That night, a shrill scream filled the street and jolted me out of bed. I ran downstairs, Jimmy tailing behind me. My dad yelled for us to stay inside. We didn’t listen.
Mike’s mom stood outside screaming and pacing the street. Lights from the neighboring houses turned on one-by-one until we saw. Mike’s mother held something in her arms. The neighbors stood from their lawns and gasped when they saw. She was holding a balloon version of Mike; it was even wearing his clothes. She continued her screaming, demanding to know where her son was. Pleading with the neighborhood.
She dropped to her knees, squeezing balloon impersonation in her arms.
The pop echoed throughout the street, and Mike’s mother sat on the pavement – drenched in her son’s blood.