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The association carnival opened the Thursday night during the first week I was working. After work Wednesday night my father and I rushed home so he could change into work clothes. Then we high tailed it down to the association grounds to help set up the stands, tents, performers platform, etc. Because I had started working on the tree trimming crew that Monday I didn't have the chance to go with dad this year to get the supplies. It wasn't until late Wednesday night when we finished setting up the stands and we got around to sorting and separating the dozens of different prize items for the various stands that I was able to ascertain the balloon supply situation for this year.

I knew he wouldn't be getting any of the 560 airship balloons that my buddies and I had  so much fun with because they were expensive and hadn't sold well when we tried them the previous year. I just assumed there would be several gross of the twelve inchers for the penny pitch and novelty stand along with the synthetic smelling mottled balloons that we used with the Helium. When we finally reached the large box with the balloon supplies I was surprised that he had gotten sixteen inch balloons for the  novelty stand and solid mixed color heavy rubber balloons to use with the Helium. These later balloons had been made on a fluted mold just like rubber beach balls except that they had a short conventional rolled lip neck instead of the longer roll up and insert necks of the beach balls (nowadays punch balls).

I thought dad screwed up on the quantity of twelve inch balloons because he had gotten as many this year as last in addition to the three gross of sixteen's. These should have been in place of at least two boxes of twelve inch balloons; so I knew even if we had super balloon sales at my stand we would have several gross of twelve's left. When I mentioned the excess of balloons to dad (I was secretly hoping he would say, "Well I knew you would want more for your rubber collection so I got a few extra gross for you.") he simply said that there was no problem returning any of the unsold merchandise for full credit.

It was about ten PM when we finished up and dad and I along with a dozen or so other men who had been helping set up went down to the hotel for sandwiches and brew. I was famished. It had been a long time since lunch. It took a while for the owners wife and her two waitress / assistants to rustle up the food for the sudden influx of empty stomachs, so the time was filled with several rounds of beer for the men. We congregated in the bar room portion of the hotel where I had had the run in with the construction workers months before, several of whom, including the foreman, being already present when we came in. Dad and I found a table and he sent me up to the bar to fetch him a draught and myself a Coke.

The few construction workers that hadn't turned in for the night were all sitting on stools at the bar. I had not had any problems with any of them since the cigarette leg burning showdown I had with one of them back in September. As the barkeep handed me dad's beer and my Coke the foreman called out to me in a voice loud enough to be heard by most of the men, "Hey Henery. What's a rough tough he man like you doing with a Coke?" Oh oh, trouble. I could feel the hair on the back of my head start to bristle.

I turned toward the foreman and his buddies and flashed them a big smile as I raised the beer mug and announced, "Naw, this here one's mine."

I figured that would hold him; but it didn't. He proceeded to let everybody know that he men that wear shorts drink whisky not beer. He had already taken on a bit more joy juice then he should have because in a bellicose tone of voice he demanded the barkeeper give me a shot so I could demonstrate my drinking prowess for the benefit of the men that had come in with me. Dad immediately jumped to his feet to come to my defense and I could envision a massacre about to erupt. I quickly signaled dad to back off and told the guy tending bar to give me the whisky. He had been working the night of the first run in and he had little doubt that serving a minor under his present duress was far preferable to rebuilding the bar room; so he dumped a few jiggers full into a glass from the first bottle he grabbed.

The previous time chug-a-lugging the 100 proof nearly killed me and I didn't relish having the liquid fire burn out the lining of my throat again; but as a true blue Boy Scout I felt I was duty bound to prevent bloodshed. I took the glass, saluted the foreman, took as big a breath of air as I could suck into my lungs because I knew it would be awhile before I would be able to breath again, and guzzled down close to three ounces of the fire water. Accch! How the hell could anybody enjoy drinking this shit. Of course I realized that just a one ounce portion was normally added to a much larger drink; that was how. I tried to control my composure as I placed the glass on the bar and picked up the beer and Coke and walked over and sat down. The foreman had one more parting comment regarding my he man drinking prowess as dad glared at him before he sat down. Then dad demanded details of my initial encounter which I had been a bit sketchy on at the time when I told him what happened back in the fall.

I had checked Sunday night to see if my buddies Dave and Mike were going to help at the novelty stand. Like me they were not as enthused as the previous years. They were getting too old and it seemed to them to be more like work then fun. Frankly, my balloon inventory was overflowing since I had picked up the three thousand or so balloons six weeks before. As a result even I wasn't as eager to peddle balloons and the other novelties as I had been previous years myself. It didn't surprise me that neither of the boys showed up Thursday night.

I had to really hustle to get all the merchandise out of the building and set up on the various shelves at the back of the novelty stand. I had to get one of the men to give me a hand to lug the old Fridigaire compressor, the old Helium cylinder we were using as an air receiver, and the fresh Helium cylinder from the cellar of the association building out to the stand. When I had gotten this done and had the cylinders securely lashed to the stand so they wouldn't fall over I was ready to go with the balloons.

Father had told me that, because of the cost of the Helium, the store owner had told him we should only inflate the large fluted balloons to about fourteen inches. I proceeded to blow up a dozen assorted colors, attach the cotton strings, and secure them to the rear of the stand. I had planned to take one of them and just fill it from the compressed air supply just to see how big it would get before it busted, but I started getting early arrival customers and I hadn't even gotten the sixteen inch stick balloons inflated yet. By the time I got a dozen of them blown up we had started to get a sizable crowd, so I didn't find out how big the Helium balloons would ultimately get until Friday night when my buddy Dave couldn't resist performing that verification for us.

One thing I soon noticed was that I was taking a lot more note of the teen girls that were there. There was no question that Linda had irrevocably altered both my life style and interests. The girls just had to be wearing more short skirts and shorts then they had in previous years. If fact there were very few that weren't bare kneed and most of them I wouldn't have minded taking for a stroll in the woods behind the carnival grounds. I wondered how many could get themselves worked up by rubbing themselves with rubber balloons like Linda apparently could.

Many of the girls had come with each other with maybe a quarter of them accompanied by a male escort. These latter girls inevitably wound up at my stand expecting the boys to buy them a trinket as a memento of the evening. The macho guys naturally had negative comments regarding my high boots, knee socks, shorts, and neckerchief that I was wearing. The girls all thought I at least looked cute and not a few of them embarrassed their dates by pointing out that my military appearing garb made me look like more of a he man than they did. This pissed a couple of them off and they became anxious to take me around back and forcefully demonstrate to their dates that I was just a sissy queer selling balloons. Some of them were really big bruisers and I didn't doubt that they would prevail. Fortunately their girl friends weren't into bloodshed and most of them left with their purchases without challenging me to some fisticuffs. With no one to spar with I was well aware that my boxing skills had markedly deteriorated since last fall, so I wasn't near as confident in my defensive abilities.

The first batch of stick balloons I had well over inflated. They were a good eighteen inches in diameter. The carnival patrons couldn't resist buying them. Unfortunately it took little or no abuse to get them to bust with a really loud BANG. If fact a couple let go before the customers got any distance from the stand and I felt obligated to replace them free of charge. After selling about three dozen well over inflated ones I started blowing them just to rated size so they would at least last until the customers could get to their cars.

The fact that the stick and Helium balloons were a lot larger than last year really increased sales. For consumers, bigger is better. Many who had been successful at garnering twelve inch stick balloons at the penny pitch stand for their kids or dates still came over and bought either Helium or the larger sixteen inch stick balloons before they left the carnival.

This created several sexually stimulating moments when the kids wanted sixteen inch balloons in place of the twelve inch ones daddy had painstakingly won at the penny pitch stand. After receiving the larger balloon, or a Helium balloon, many summarily dispatched the smaller balloon. This usually took the form of dropping the balloon on the grass and stepping on it. On a couple of occasions the balloon popped as soon as it hit the grass stubble and the kids didn't have to follow through with a stomp.

A couple of them sneakily disposed of their smaller toys when their parents weren't looking to improve the chances of getting them to buy them a Helium or one of my larger ones. One, maybe twelve year old girl with a grin from ear to ear, simply bent the stick her balloon was tied to and pressed the other end into the side of it until it popped as she and her mom walked up to the stand.

One boy, about ten years old, was my kind of guy. He kneeled on his balloon, squashing it under his knees. Alas he was wearing "longies" and missed the pleasure of bare flesh in contact with his breaking toy.

Another, probably about eight, had three he wanted to get rid of. He asked for the cigarette his dad was smoking and with a flourish applied the burning tip to his unwanted toys; BANG BANG BANG, before he would let me give him the larger balloon.

Thursday night as I was closing up the stand, the son of one of the association members who was working came over to give me a hand. Unlike most eleven year olds, Joshua enjoyed wearing shorts (I'm sure not for the sexual reasons I did) and had on a really loose baggy pair he had been wearing since the previous summer. Just watching him running around the carnival grounds with bare kneed abandon I found stimulating. The two of us were the only males over maybe six who were sporting bare legs.

I had a couple of Helium balloons left along with four of the sixteen inch stick balloons when he came over to help carry all the  boxes of novelties into the association building. The Helium balloons were difficult to salvage because of the tightly tied string on the necks, but the stick balloons could be easily removed and deflated for use the following night. Actually I was planning to have these latter soft distended rubber bags wind up in my pocket. The Helium balloons I would hand out to the first kids that came over and asked for them.

I was surprised when Joshua asked for the stick balloons and didn't want any of the Helium. He pulled the necks off the sticks and let the air escape. I knew he enjoyed playing with balloons and since I had gotten him over his fear of bursting them he had no qualms about blowing them all the way. I asked him what he was planning to do with the rubber toys and he gave me a big grin as he said, "Bust them, just like you like to."

Ah, a true disciple.

"Show me," I challenged him.

Joshua, retrieving a balloon from his pocket, stood in front of me and began blowing away. The previously stretched rubber had been inflated for about an hour and offered little resistance to his healthy lungs. In relatively short time he had the balloon to the limit and he hadn't even stopped to catch his breath. Josh wasn't about to let me think the size the balloon had reached would deter his mission to turn the pretty toy into shredded rubber. He didn't waver in the least. The balloon was nearly twenty inches in diameter when it disintegrated in his face with a healthy BOOM. Josh was pleased with himself and I had a boner in my shorts. I would have loved to watch him finish off the other three, and I would have been happy to slip him some more out of the box; but he obviously wanted to save them for some private fun at home.

Dave and Mike showed up for the Friday and Saturday nights, but Mike was commandeered to help at one of the other stands. Dave was impressed with the new types of balloons we had to sell, and after we got set up and our initial offering of balloons inflated, he wasted no time in checking out the ultimate capabilities of our rubber toys. He was using the air compressor to blow up the sixteen inchers and after he had a dozen or more inflated he just let the next balloon go all the way. It made it to nearly eighteen inches before the red rubber shattered with a loud BANG shooting a glob of shredded rubber off into the grass. Needless to say this attracted a lot of attention to our stand.

Since we were using expensive Helium to inflate the heavier rubber balloons he couldn't just 'accidentally' let one go all the way to check it out. He spent several minutes fingering and stretching one of them before I suggested that he blow it up with air so we could see how big the suckers could get before they busted. Dave was all smiles as he let the high pressure air race into the soft rubber bag he was holding. It reached nearly twenty inches before the tougher rubber gave up and the balloon burst with an even louder BANG. This time it caught my father's attention and he came over and told us we were supposed to be selling balloons not busting them.

Friday night around 9:30 three bikers showed up; two of them with girls. They were all dressed in their black leather cycle outfits. The guys were rough, tough, unshaven, gorilla types you tend to associate with motorcyclists. They all featured bare arms and bulging biceps. The two larger guys had macho skin decorations on their arms as well.

The girl that seemed to be with the smaller of the three was sporting black leather shorts that came about a third of the way down her shapely muscled legs. Her feet and calves were encased in matching black high boots that stopped just below her knees.

WOW! I just couldn't keep my eyes off her. From what I could see neither could most of the other males at the carnival as the five of them made their rounds of the stands. While they were doing this Linda showed up and came over to our stand. She was sporting her scout shorts and knee socks because it was a warm evening and in deference to my preference in seeing her in such attire. I told Dave to take care of things. Then Linda and I started checking out the other carnival stands and games ourselves. I noticed we also attracted more than usual attention. I was hoping this was because Linda was attractive, sexy looking, and big; not because a big boy like me was wearing a Boy Scout looking outfit.

Naturally we had to try out the floating saucer penny pitch stand. We got a dollar's worth of pennies and I gave Linda perhaps 70. My ability to toss pennies and get them to stay in one of the saucers floating about in the washtub some seven feet away hadn't improved since my younger days when I spent a small fortune to win two Mickey Mouse balloons. After thirty some tosses my pennies were either lying about on the sheet surrounding the tub or in the drink. Linda, on the other hand, aided no doubt by her long reach managed to get four to land and stay in one of the saucers, so along with three or four other trinkets we had garnered from other game stands she had four balloons in hand as we headed back to my stand.

As we walked up poor Dave was facing off with the biker group. I had noticed at all the stands there tended to be a sudden exodus of other patrons whenever they walked up. Aside from their leather clad get up, just the shear size of the two bigger guys would intimidate most men. As I suspected they had some unkind things to say about the length of Dave's pants relative to his age. I guess because I had my body guard along side me, or in a moment of insanity, as we came up behind them I said, "Do my shorts suit you any better?"

With that they spun around and looked Linda and me over real good. The apparent number one man asked Linda what she was doing running around with a wimpy Boy Scout like me when she could have a real man; he gestured to the other big bruiser that didn't have a girl. Linda glared at him and minced no words in telling him to get lost and that she liked guys that weren't afraid to wear shorts and had sexy legs. Then to really stir the stew the biker babe in the shorts cooed that she liked to see guys in shorts too, and she thought I looked cute. Then like an idiot I blurted out that I really liked her outfit as well.

Her leather shorts were really turning me on and I thought I made it sound like a complement, but her boy friend immediately took offense and moved towards me to take me apart. Fortunately the number one guy grabbed him preventing certain bloodshed. His date admonished him for his jealous attitude and that just pissed him off further. The number one guy suggested maybe he and I ought to just swap girl friends.

I could see Linda was ticked off and quickly let him know what he could do with his idea. The bike babe, however, thought it might be fun. Linda turned to me and gave me a 'think about it and you die' look. The others thought that it was funny and fortunately it de-fused the situation. They actually blew over five bucks on novelties including some Helium balloons before they departed.

As they left Linda glared at me and snapped, "So you like girls in sexy leather shorts, huh?"

I smiled and replied, "Sure, I like to see girls in shorts. That's why I like you to wear your scout shorts for me, isn't it?"

I suddenly felt it was imperative that I sounded convincing.

I wasn't. Linda gave me a disgusted look, grabbed the back of my head with one hand and flattened one of the balloons she was holding on my face with the other. It busted with a loud BANG as the heel of her hand gave me a good rap in the snout. She jammed the sticks from the three remaining balloons in my hand and told me I could go and have fun busting them myself. Then Linda turned and walked briskly away as I stood there slack jawed. Dave laughed and said he was glad he didn't have to concern himself with 'women problems'.

As I climbed into the novelty stand with Linda's three balloons Dave gave one of them a good swat with his fingers, but it didn't pop.

"How ya going to bust 'em," Dave chirped as I hung them over the rear rail of the stand.

"I don't know. I think maybe I will just take them home," I replied. "Perhaps she will be over her mad by tomorrow and I can give them to her as a peace offering."

About this time I noticed two boys, probably about twelve who had been successful at the balloon penny pitch stand. Between them they had five balloons and they took them around behind our stand and across the gravel driveway that ran along side the association building. They stuck the balloon sticks in the grassy ground on the far side. I watched in rapt attention as the balloons bobbed in the gentle night breeze knowing that their demise was at hand. No red blooded boy would ever abandon inflated balloons.

The boys walked away from the balloons and picked up handfuls of small stones from the drive. Then they turned and threw the stones at the defenseless toys. From about twenty feet their aim was fairly accurate and in a matter of a few seconds the missiles had turned the pretty baubles into sticks with dangling torn rubber hanging limply from the tops. At this point my tool wasn't nearly as limp. Dave applauded the boys destructive effort and suggested we could finish off Linda's balloons in the same fashion.

One dad made the mistake of buying his youngster a Helium balloon as soon as they arrived. I tied the balloon to the kid's left wrist and as the family walked away I noticed the boy seemed intent on getting the floating rubber orb, with the help of the slight breeze we had, to bang his mom and dad in the face. As they mingled in the crowd I could see that the boy's action had been successful in annoying his parents. I wondered if the kid would wise up or go home sans balloon.

About ten minutes later I spotted the family again as they moved into my section of the carnival. The balloon was still intact but I noticed he was still pulling down on the string to bring the balloon down to face level. I could see the pissed expression on his dad's face as the balloon bounced off his nose one more time. Without saying a word his dad grabbed the balloon in both hands and dug the tips of his fingers into the rubber. Because of the thicker skin and the fact we weren't blowing the Helium balloons to full rated size it didn't pop as easily as he expected and survived the first squeeze. He repositioned his hands and finished it off with a BANG. Junior immediately burst into tears as his dad suddenly realized the nasty stares he was getting from the crowd. The family quickly moved away toward the parking area.

As he had Thursday night, Joshua showed up as we were closing the stand and hauling the merchandise back into the building. There were only two inflated sixteen inch stick balloons left and he quickly commandeered them. Then he asked about the three balloons Linda had given me. Dave told him I wanted to take them home and play with them. (Very true). Joshua gave me a 'aren't you a little old to be playing with balloons look' as he asked if he could have them. Just thinking about what Joshua in his cool loose fitting shorts might do with them gave me more than sufficient pleasure as I handed them over.

Saturday morning Linda called bright and early. I suspect her Father had told her to kiss and make up because I had little doubt that he intended to get me heavily involved in training and showing their horses. Linda was still miffed because I had paid so much attention to the shapely babe in the black leather shorts; so my day long Saturday equestrian workout was even more grueling then usual. Fortunately I had time when I got home to take a nice long hot bath to ease the screaming aches and pains of my tortured body before I donned clean denim shorts along with my scout knee socks and shirt and headed with dad down to the carnival grounds.

The weather was perfect and we had a huge crown Saturday night that started pouring in by six thirty. Fortunately Dave showed up. As it was we were pressed to get all the various boxes of novelties set up on the display shelves along with our initial offering of balloons.

By seven o'clock I witnessed the first balloon popping incident of the night. Two boys started whacking each other in the face with balloons from the penny pitch stand. This is the one major problem with balloons tied on the ends of bamboo or plastic sticks because of the high risk of eye injury. An adult, I don't know if it was one of their parents, separated them and told them to knock it off. Naturally the truce lasted until the guy turned and walked away. When he realized they were at it again he came storming back and actually had to chase after the kids to confiscate their toys. When he had both balloons in hand he held the balloons down, bent over a bit to get them down on the grass, then squashed them first with the right than the left foot, POOM POOM. The kids ran off as, as somewhat embarrassed, he faced the onlookers the popping had attracted.

A group of four teen girls from school came up to the stand. They were all sporting short shorts and ummmm did they catch my eye. They made several cute remarks about Dave and my bare knees which were probably intended as derision but which I accepted as a complement. Their words made Dave squirm and I knew he would really rather have been wearing longies like adults our age were expected to.

None of the girls were involved in the prom decoration balloon bust but must have gotten some word about it, because after buying several of our stick balloons the girl in the pink shorts who seemed to be the leader wanted to have me pop some of them while they watched. I told her that guys like to see the gals pop balloons and that would suit me better. She was insistent, however, so I left the stand and we moved away from the carnival area behind the building. Then she handed me a nice fat blue balloon. I think she thought I was just going to stomp or kneel on it because she seemed disconcerted as I pulled the neck off the stick and allowed the air to escape.

The girls broke into smiles as I started to re- nflate the balloon. They sensed that my assignment was to bust it and I was going to do it in a stimulating macho way just for their pleasure. I rushed the inflation hoping I wasn't going to have to finish off the other four the same way in a short period of time. Since this was the second time around the balloon made it to about fourteen inches before it exploded with a satisfying BANG that echoed off the rear wall of the building and turned heads.

The girls were all giggles and smiles as they vied to hand me their balloons. I took the next one and pressed it against my stomach with my left hand and started scrubbing it with my right. The balloon emitted loud protests as the rubber reluctantly slid under the pressure of my palm. I wanted to see if the sound would get any of my audience hot. Two of the girls appeared to be timid and the uncertainty of when the balloon would pop made them edgy causing them to back away. The other two seemed to enjoy what I was doing and were eagerly awaiting the inevitable pop. The balloon finally let go with a POOM in mid squeak.

As I was being offered a third balloon the leader suddenly intervened and asked if I could provide some more toys from the stand. I told her no problem, but why? Then she floored me as she suggested we could have even more fun if we were to go somewhere away from all the people.

As blood rushed to my vital organ I realized they were offering me a possible real fun time if I would accompany them back to their car and we were to go to a more isolated spot. I also knew there was no chance I would ever be as lucky again as I had been with Linda who, having readily noted my balloon connected sexual stimulation, had kept that knowledge quiet because she shared similar interests. These giggly gabby girls would surely broadcast my humiliating secret as soon as they discovered the boner that was already building in my shorts. I think I made a wise decision not to get involved with them citing the fact that I was responsible for manning the novelty stand. Some other time, perhaps. The girls left with their three remaining toys.

When I re-entered the stand, Dave who had been keeping an eye on what I was doing with the girls behind the stand when he wasn't handling a customer, wanted to know If I had had fun with them. I made the mistake of sharing their offer and he immediately took me to task for not making their night, "For a guy that likes busting balloons like you do you could sure have had some real fun with them. I could have taken care of the stand for you."

I looked at Dave and smiled as I realized he either had forgotten about our balloon sex in the tent a year earlier or he didn't truly understand what a sexual stimulation balloons were for me. I knew as a fellow seventeen year old he seemed far less inhibited about inflating a balloon in public until it burst than I was. But then again, balloons I was sure weren't fetish objects for him either.

Shortly after this the carnival began to wind down and I started figuring how I was going to get my hands on some of the new type unsold balloon stock. I was very apprehensive about my dad's reaction to the large quantity of balloons I had recently added to my inventory. The novelty supply owner had surely told him about all the balloons he had given me when we were down picking up the prom decorations. I had little doubt dad would be displeased and there would be zero chance of being able to just buy up the unsold balloon inventory as I had last year.

I had two problems to solve. First I had to get my hands on the balloons I wanted to buy and separate them from the rest of the stock before all the unsold merchandise was hauled back into the association building. Then I had to figure out how to get what would be a fairly large box of toys home unnoticed by dad. I started addressing the first problem by consolidating the remaining balloons along with some of the other novelties. This freed up a nice sized closed lid box that I could use to carry the balloons I wanted to buy. I really wanted all that were left, of course, but that would be well beyond my financial wherewithal. As a minimum I wanted to get my hands on the large sixteen inchers and the heavy fluted helium balloons.

Suddenly Dave solved both my problems by announcing that he had to relieve himself in a serious way and it wouldn't wait until he got home. The facilities were in two small buildings a good hundred feet or more behind the association building. Dave would be gone for several minutes, and as luck would have it there were no customers. I quickly gathered several handfuls of the sixteen inch and fluted balloons and stuffed them in my carrying box. I hated to let the twelve's just lay, but hell, I had just picked up a good three thousand identical balloons a few weeks before so what would an additional hundred mean except that I could afford fewer of the others that would be new to my stock.

This initial maneuver took all of about a minute. I looked about and noted that my Dad was engaged on the far side of the carnival grounds. There were still no customers in the vicinity of the stand or that appeared to be headed in my direction, so I grabbed the box I had filled and scooted out to our car. The balloon box was only about three inches thick and I was able to easily stick it under the passenger side seat. I hot footed it back to the stand and had my money for the balloons I had taken in the cash box before Dave returned. I, of course, hadn't counted the balloons I had taken because of lack of time, but I had a pretty good idea of how many I was grabbing and I had already mentally calculated approximately how many of each type I could afford to buy because I had a pretty good feel for what the association's wholesale cost for the balloons was.

Although the association wasn't loosing any money because they would have received the same amount of money I had given them as a refund on the balloons I had taken had they been returned, an audit would have quickly revealed that they lost out on the profit from a hundred plus balloons that would have appeared to have been sold but which I diverted to my personal inventory. Fortunately over the four years I ran the stand such an audit was never made.

When dad and I finally got home around midnight, luck was with me again. He needed something from the barn and it gave me an opportunity to whisk the balloons from the car which he parked next to the house up to my room. My step mom was in bed and I had no trouble finding a medium size bag to transfer my latest treasure to. I stuffed my new balloons in the back of my bureau drawer with my other 'using' stock and jettisoned the box I had hauled them home in, after folding it up, under other trash in the large waste can in the kitchen. My good fortune at such a speedy transfer of sensitive material turned out not being so fortunate the next day.     Rev. Date: 4/03
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