At the slicing of the cake, Biff stealthily took shape as a hunting feline and inhaled all the helium that his lungs could muster.
Standing back, he felt repelled by the deafening scenes of frenetic gluttony. He opened his well-rested mouth to release some verbal pressure that impounded in his head.
The sound of his very first syllable caused the surrounding windows to shatter into thousands of shark-like teeth. Consequently, an almighty vacuum of air sucked him out of the house as if he were suddenly grabbed by a colossal hand. Up, up into the gaping void of turquoise sky he floated.
As he rose into the sky with his elation from escape, he could hear the sweet slow fade of lung-bursting screams; expelled from the children’s unending hellish choir in the house below him.
Wailing from their distress of flaccid balloons and exploding glass, Biff had gone too far this time; he floated higher than he had foreseen, Biff froze as hypothermia set his body.
His helium had long expired, he plummeted towards terra firma at over a hundred miles an hour and landed face up on the lawn of a children’s garden tea party. With Biff’s brains and guts having covered the sweet treats; a limp balloon remained frozen stuck to his hand, with two frosted words, Happy Birthday!
When the children screamed, Biff lay with a magnificent smile.