why i hate balloons

This, my friends. is the story of how I came to hate balloons.
So yesterday was my little sisters birthday, I had that glorious "I will be and awesome sister!" moment when I decided to go to town and buy stuff to decorate.
along with the decorating brainstorm came the idea I had seen on Pinterest about trapping balloons between plastic and the bedroom door so the birthday-girl (or boy) will be baptized in a heap of happy birthday balloon happiness when they awake and open the door. so I happily (and naively) bought two packs of balloons, unsure on how many I'd need. I was so oblivious to the days of sheer TORTURE that would follow.
I awoke early on the morning of the fated day, happy as a chipmunk and unaware of the horrible day I had coming. I blew up like twenty balloons and had everything ready (My older brother even commented that some kind person should help me blow them up or I would be terribly out of breath, It didn't seem to occur to him that he COULD be that kind person.) anyway, my little sis awoke and was thrilled about the balloons.
BUT TOO THRILLED. as were my two little brothers.
And at first I was as happy as they were.
but THEN. THEN the sound of little (and some not so little) fingers rubbing on balloons and screeching reached my ears, And THEN, my little siblings started whopping me with the balloons, there were balloons everywhere, it was starting to be a lot like a bad dream, filled with terrifying balloons. (some people have nightmares about clowns or bulls or something, I'm pretty sure that mine will be filled with balloons and a constant nonstop rubbing of fingers on them.)
we went to my sister-in-law's place that afternoon, I brought a balloon along for my ah-dee-dorable little nephew. I still hadn't quite learned my lesson, but THAT was the last straw. I blew it up for my nephew. and my brother just younger than me proceeded to steal it from him, then he sat down beside me and whopped me over the head with them balloon, CONSTANTLY. Bam....bam...bam...bam...bam..bam...bam. til I got frustrated and hit the balloon away from him, well. that didn't help.
he proceeded to find one of my nephews toy bouncy balls and bounced THAT ON MY HEAD. he got bored with that since I ignored him and he started entertaining my nephew with one of his stuffed teddy puppies that had a HARD NOSE. then he got the brilliant idea to throw THAT at me. It came flying through the air. FAST, the hard nose hit me right on the eye. luckily I was blinking at the time BUT I SAW ACTUAL STARS. this post is for revenge on my brother and all balloons.
That wasn't the last of the balloon torture. my little siblings all started blowing them up, but they didn't tie them. OH NO. that would be too kind. they would simply release them into the air while unsuspecting me would walk by. and I would be covered in kid-spit, DISGUSTING.
Needless to say, I will never EVER buy my little siblings balloons again.
and I am almost ready to take a vow to destroy any balloon the dares enter this house.
And that, my friends. Is the story of why I hate balloons.

Xxx Daisy.