One time my grandmother bought me 500 bouncy balls at a yard sale.
I was ten years old, and I was yard-saleing with my grandmother and my mom. There was a bag of bouncy balls, so I expressed to my grandmother NEEDED them. My grandma decided I could get a few, so she tracked down the lady in charge of the yard sale.
Grandma: How much are these bouncy balls?
Very Apathetic Lady: Uh…..10 cents a piece, or you can have the whole bag for $3
There were 500 of those fuckers, AND I COULD HAVE THE WHOLE BAG.
You can’t even imagine how excited my ADD little body grew at the thought of it. I was going to have so many adventures. I would play Indiana Jones and roll the balls all over the ground and watch in exhilaration as anyone near by would trip, stand up, and trip again. I would fill a pillow case with them and throw them against the wall, watching the balls explode out of it in a frenzy of colour.
I later did this, only I forgot to let go of the pillow case so it rebounded off the wall and hit me in the face instead. I was so shocked over having just been pimp slapped by my own balls I dropped the pillowcase and tried to run out of my room to cry to my mom. Except, when you drop a pillowcase full of balls on the floor the balls roll everywhere so when I tried to run to my mom and cry about being hit in the face I tripped on the balls and smacked head first to the floor. At this point I opted for a fetal position and cried to myself out of supreme fear that if I were to move any more the balls would whip out switchblades and start stabbing me in the ribs.
Anyways back to the yard sale.
My mother, being a fun ruin-er, overheard my grandmother.
My mom: MOTHER, Don’t you DARE buy her all of those bouncy balls. They’ll be all over the house and I’ll never see the end of them.
Grandma: Oh Angie, don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going to buy her a ten pound bag of bouncy balls.
My mom walked away satisfied, so my grandmother quickly threw the bag of bouncy balls on to the counter and made the purchase. She rushed me into the van and stuffed the bag that was filled with my new-found friends and countless hours of joy under the seat.
Grandma: Don’t look at, touch, or even say anything about the balls until you’re home, alright?
Me: *VIGOROUSLY NODS*
I grinned the rest of the trip, usually giggling to myself. By this point in my life I’m convinced my mom was believed I was psychotic, so my she ignored me and any noises I may have been making.
We arrived home and I rushed in my house, clutching the bag filled with my joy desperately. I waited until I heard my mom enter the house and my grandmother leave, before bounding to the top of the steps and pouring all of the bouncy balls back down them. I watched with what can only be described as deranged glee as my waterfall of colourful bouncy balls cascaded down the steps.
It’s hard to describe the excitement I was making in both gestures and noises at that point. If you’ve ever seen a monkey fight another monkey for a mate, that about sums it up.