This is a short story/collective narrative composed by Bryson members:
Alaina Behan, Clay Dawson, Elizabeth Stoltenberg , Megan Doyle, Lauren Anderson, Morgan Whipps, Ashley Hart, Sarah Means, Travis Freeman, Kurt Hare, Takeshi Takahashi, Kelli Trapnell, Nathan Pesina, and Chad Gallman
Each had one minute to contribute a paragraph or two, this was the final (awesome) result:
The large handed man reaches into his box of unborn balloons. Picking a blue one at random, he gives it helium life. Despite the oversized hands the balloon salesman possesses, he is able to nimbly manipulate a string securely around the neck of his product. He hands the balloon to the eagerly waiting, appropriately sized hands of a child customer who looks up to him and says…
“what is this, sir?” and there was a note of disappointment in the poor child’s voice. He had asked for a poodle, but had received a sword. “Deal with it,” the over-size handed man said sweetly.
“But what do I do with this?” the boy turned to his mother. With the practiced hand of solving similar problems, she pulled a long, thin needle out of her purse and popped the balloon. The boy and his mother walked off, hand in hand, each humming a different tune.
But this is only the beginning of things. Our balloon – deflated, flaccid, and defeated – lies prostrate upon the pavement. Marcel, fresh from work at the chewing factory, happens to have a misplaced stick stuck upon his sole. And to it, our friend the balloon joins.
Knowing that helium friends have not turned out well in the past for Marcel the Shell with shoes on, he quickly exchanges pleasantries but finds he has more in common with this new acquaintance, the bus driver taking a break on the bench along the sidewalk, bespeckled with chewed pieces of gum at least a million years old who swears that he’s seen two UFOs and met John Lennon.
The bus driver was almost reluctant in telling the shell, “Hey uh, Marcel the shell, you have a balloon stuck to your shoe.” Marcel was dumbfounded, though he certainly was not going to deny the fact. “I most certainly do.”
Marcel decided to keep the balloon on his shoe thinking that it was a cool idea to have a balloon.
Suddenly the balloon began to speak.
“I am all knowing; ask me what you wish.” Marcel considered this and wondered why this event was happening to him.
“Um, hi,” he squeaked like a small puppy whimpering for its meal. The bus stopped on Pittsburg avenue, the driver charging out chasing those “damn aliens” once more. Marcel waddled off the bus and hopped, the balloon sticking to the puke green linoleum floor of the bus.
He was immediately overtaken by a feeling of sadness. He missed his new friend terribly. When he thought about the minutes they had shared together, he nearly wept with the remembrance. He hoped for a similar intervention in the future, but his hopes were atrophied from years of loneliness. His only solace lay in the teachings of Zarathustra, which he had known since birth.
When he arrived several hours later in San Francisco, he eyed the big screen that was blaring in the middle of downtown. Severus Snape glowered at the traffic below. His nose rose hawk-like from beneath the strands of greasy, dark hair. “We must end Don’t Ask Don’t Tell,” he whispered silkily. A shiver ran down Marcel’s spine, yet he was strangely persuaded to go back and find the all-knowing balloon. Suddenly his mission was clear…form his alliance to this new, mysterious, greasy character. Severus Snape. His over-emphasized, British-accented words dripping dark from his lips. “We must end Don’t Ask Don’t Tell”…his cloak swept over the floor with every sudden movement convincing Marcel to sneeze heartily.
A sudden change came over his tiny shell body. His one eyeball popped out and a giant purple balloon swelled out of the opening, lifting him up into the air.
“STOP! STOP!’ hissed Snape, who apparently was no longer dead like some crazy lady namexd JK said he was. “THE MUGGLES WILL SEE YOU!”
And then, as the balloon man with the misshapen hands wrapped up his story, a college student wearing a green polo and khaki pants (although it signifies bad family relations if you dream about khaki) said, “WHAT? HOW THE HECK DID IT GET THERE?”
And he got the balloon man fired. And the world was completely devoid of stories.
But somewhere, in the distance, a small shell floated from a giant purple balloon….
