first person

I sit on the floor, casually lounging as I fill yet another balloon. There's still several hours before the party, so I haven't gotten dressed yet; I'm wearing a simple pair of panties and a form-fitting white tanktop. I sigh. "Man, who knew blowing balloons would take so long?" I lament, turning to you.

You're sitting on a chair in jeans and a white t-shirt, using a pump to fill the balloons. "Well, it's a good thing we have this pump. It could be a lot slower," you note, with a smirk.

I pout. "Well, I suppose. Still, next time we should just buy them, I guess."

The day started off so well. I had a good night’s sleep, a wonderful day at school and the weather was beautiful. The birds were singing and children were playing in the park I was at. Such a heavenly day and boy was it about to go badly wrong.

It's been three months since I popped Nebraska Jones in the Wakellium tomb and tonight is my big night. My agent has arranged a showing for one of the greatest Wakellium finds in the past thirty years. The headdress of Marmaren the last great chieftain of the Wakellium people. The stage is set and the crowd is ready, I take a last nervous breath before stepping out of the curtain and greeting the audience. I stand at the podium read from my notes.

Hi. I'm Jenny. I have had many wonderful times in my life, but the one that has stayed with me the longest was the time when I blew myself up like a balloon. I'd like to share that time with you now.