Making A War

There’s always that one person at a party, off in the corner, all by themselves.
Fred was holding the string to a red balloon, mumbling “All I need are ninety-eight more and I can start a nuclear war.”
So, we gathered up all the red balloons, but still came up short.
The party store was closed. We couldn’t buy more.
“Maybe if we paint the other ones red? I said.
But nobody had red paint, and the paint store was closed, too.
The next morning, I was drinking my coffee, when I heard the sirens.
Should have gotten a pinata.