America has a villain. It has a power so great, so unstoppable as to make all those in its path yield. Many have tried to tame it, and failed, for to know the scourge is to know the source of pure evil. Its name? Bouncy house.
Malcolm went to a birthday party on Saturday and there were 10-15 kids there. Outside the bouncy house, the kids played nicely with one another, running around and having a good time. Once these polite, smiling children set foot in the bouncy house, however, all bets were off. The kids started randomly attacking each other like they were in a zombie movie. If they had a weapon, they’d use it, particularly to bring blunt force trauma to the head. If they didn’t have a weapon, they would simply use their tiny little fingers to try and pry open their combatant’s skulls. Soon, most of the (good) parents had to stand by the bouncy house to try and limit the amount of carnage done either to or by their kid.
So, one by one the kids would jump into the house, intent on having a good time. Once the critical mass hit, and the party turned into a drunken brawl, one by one, the kids would come out crying, complaining of a near death experience brought on by a rabid bouncer. The last one standing would smile, knowing that they had successfully vanquished all foes, and leave the bouncy house to collect their handsome reward of a juice box and a peanut butter celery stick. Then, one by one, the kids would pile back into the bouncy house and madness would ensue.
I don’t know why the bouncy houses do what they do. Maybe the stale air under the vinyl turns toxic. Maybe jumping up and down rapidly has a degenerative effect on the brain. Whatever it is, I when I find out the cause, I am going to bottle it and start my own roller derby team.
Tags: Malcolm misbehaves
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