09 November 2007

Russy Gotted A Balloon Today

In honor of my brother’s birthday today, I’d like to share a short story I wrote for the Harriette Austin Writer’s Elements of Fiction Class through UGA:

Russy gotted a balloon today. From the doctor. It costed him nothing. He jes didn’t yell or nothing when he gotted a shot for bee stings.

I never gotted a balloon from Dr. Gee. I guess I shoulda yelled the first time he poked at me.

It’s pink, but Russy likes it still. It aint jes any ole balloon, neither. It floats. Not like the ones at Althea’s birthday parties that you gotta blow up yourself. It really floats. Russy says it’s cuzza hot air. You gotta let your breath get really hot afore you blow it up. My air never gets hot enough ‘cuz I never get ‘em ta float.
Dr. Gee must got a lotta hot air.

Russy saided he heard ‘bout this guy in Denmark who founded a note onna balloon from a kid. Denmark is far, far away.
Russy gots the bestest ideas.
He writed his name onna piece a paper. Then he writed more.
I wished I could write.
He telled me it was our address.
Russy’s the smartestest.
I asted Russy if I could hold his balloon. Jes for a minute. I’d be really careful.
But, Russy saided, “No, you’ll pop it.”
I would not.

He wanted ta climb up onna barn roof and let it go so it can fly farther’n Denmark.

The ladder wobbled and maded my tummick woozy, but I followed him anyways.
At the top, my hands wouldn’t lissen ta my brain tellin ‘em ta LET GO. They wouldn’t lissen ta Russy tellin me ta LET GO; he’d grab me and help me up. But, my hands wouldn’t do nothin. I hearded marchin in my ears and I couldn’t breathe right. Russy hadded that look on his face that telled me I had better get offa that ladder and onna that roof!
My hands hearded that and got moving.
I standed there right next ta Russy onna barn roof.
I didded it! I didn’t fall!

See? I telled you I could do it.

The pink balloon floated onna string in Russy’s hand.
“Here,” he saided, and handed me the string. “Don’t let go!”
“I won’t. I ain’t stupid, you know!”

He handed me the string!
I helded his pink balloon!
I wished he’d give it ta me ‘stead of that guy in Denmark. I bet that ole guy don’t even like pink balloons. Yellow’s my favorite color, but pink’s good – for a balloon. Not for a dress, though. When I’m growed up, I’m gonna get wedded in a yellow dress the color of lemon pudding Mom makes onna stove. She lets me stir it and I like ‘tending of a long, yellow dress. When I’m all growed I won’t gotta wear Russy’s stinkin ole clothes no more.
Russy looked for the paper he writed on. I hoped he don’t find it for a long time. I liked the way the wind blowed the balloon ‘round onna string. That's jes how my long, yellow dress'll float 'crossa floor.

His face telled me he tried ta get me ta hear afore but my brain was off floating with the balloon.
“Give it back.” His hand reached out for the string.
I helded it tight and thought I might say “No.”
I looked around. We standed on the barn roof. No place ta run. He’d catch me for sure if’n I tried. Prolly fall offa the roof - then we’d catch it from Poppa.
“Give it here!” His face telled me he was really mad now.

I tried ta hand it ta him.

I holded out my fist.

I thought he had it.

I thought he took the string. I really did.
Why would I let go if I knewed he ain’t got it?

But nobody did, and his pink balloon gotted away.
I tried ta grab the string when I sawed he ain’t got it, but I missed.
Russy’s face telled me he knewed he shouldn’ta let me hold his balloon.

I wished he’d stop lookin at me that way.
“That guy in Denmark’ll prolly get it. It’s floatin way high up,” I telled him.
“Yeah, but now he won’t know who it’s from, Stoop!” He holded the paper in his fist and shaked it at me. His face telled me he might cry, but he quick goed down the ladder.

“Don’t call me stupid. I ain’t stupid, Stupid! You’s the one what let go! I handed it ta you, Stupid.” I followed him down the ladder. I tried hard not ta cry, but I did anyways. I knowed it was all my fault. But I wished he wouldn’t lookit me that way.

Next time I go ta Dr. Gee’s I won’t yell or nothing and maybe he’ll give me a floating balloon.
If he does, I’m givin it ta Russy… even if it’s yellow.
Then maybe he won’t lookit me that way.


Anonymous said...

Hi Sandy, Very cute blog and great stories! Diana forwaded your blog to me. I thouroghly enjoyed it. Renea

Sandra Miller Linhart said...

Thanks Renea. And welcome to my crazy world. I hope you continue to enjoy!!

pass the popcorn, please!