But admiration soon curdled into dread. The balloon’s inflation never ceased—its swollen girth growing so immense that it began to blot out the sun, plunging Possum Springs into hushed twilight. Ridges and creases formed across its vast surface, each languid roll marked by a moist, throaty groan that vibrated through the air. Families who once picnicked beneath its drifting shadow now huddled indoors, powerless against a floating behemoth that felt more like a looming calamity than a carnival attraction. No one mistook it for a living creature—it was simply a colossal, silly balloon gone horribly out of control. With nowhere to hide from its oppressive bulk, the townsfolk could only bow their heads and pray beneath that silent dome of flesh.