He took in as much helium as his lungs could hold. He inhaled and he
inhaled and he drew the helium deep into his lungs. And those lungs
could hold a powerful lot of helium.
And sure enough...up he rose.
With his lungs full of helium he could float on air and he could fly around a room.
And
people would look up at him and cheer, "Look at the flying man!" And
they'd smile. They'd hire the flying man for parties and he'd fly around
their houses. And the people would clap as he floated by.
He got
surprised looks from folks as he floated by airplanes. But they’d see
him smile and they’d smile back and through their little airplane
windows they’d wave at the flying man.
"But he talks funny." That's what he started to hear.
So
he didn’t talk. He didn’t care for the criticism. Anyway, talking was a
waste of good helium. He just flew. That’s what he liked to do. And
that’s what people liked about him.
But eventually the helium
leaked out. Helium does that. Helium is hard to contain and it can’t be held permanently. One day he found that he could only float limply
just above the ground. Then, finally, he came to rest on a park bench.
No longer the flying man.
And there he sat on the park bench, dejected. His flying days were over.
A
young girl who happened to be playing on a nearby swing set, hopped off
her swing and walked over to the no-longer-flying man. “What’s the
matter? Why do you look so sad?” she asked.
“Because I used to fly and now I can’t” he answered.
At
the sound of the no-longer-flying man’s voice, the young girl got a big
smile on her face. “Has anyone ever told you what a beautiful voice you
have?"