Balloon let down

The woman who was going to do the balloons for my party has let me down. She's going on holiday. I have had to scout round for someone else. Cheery Cards was recommended. A greasy overweight woman was sat at the till unwrapping a hamburger. As I approached her she gave me a look that said: Oh no, not another customer - I'm hungry - can't you let me eat my dinner. She made me feel so bad I apologised for interrupting her meal. "Oh. Don't worry," I said smiling. "I'll browse round while your eating."
"It's OK. What can I do for you," she replied in a deadpan voice.
"I'm having a 60s party and I want some balloons."
"What's the date," she asked bringing out a dogeared note book from beneath the till.
"The 2nd June."
"What colour and now many?" she asked inbetween bites.
"Black, white and see through, with Happy 60th written on the see through one. I'd like twelve sets of three, please"
"That'll be £48."
"Fine," I said. "Can we pick them up on the morning."
"Well, I must warn you, if you pick them up too early and the weathers cold, they could shrink a bit."
"Is that normal?" I said wondering if she was telling me the truth or if she just had indigestion.
"We have to warn people. If you pick them up at 1.00 they should be OK."
"One it is then," I said visualising a room full of shrunken 60s balloons.

Copyright © 2007 Barbara Attwood