by Mort Gloss
Balloon Boy and the Porcupine Pals:
Antihooliganism
by Mort Gloss
Balloon Boy and the Porcupine Pals: Antihooliganism
Copyright ? Mort Gloss
Published: 16th August 2013
Publisher: You're Fat Publishing
The right of Mort Gloss to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by him in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
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For more information about Balloon Boy and the Porcupine Pals, visit balloonboyandtheporcupinepals.com.
To Amanda Jane
Special thanks to Michael E. Stubbs, D.A. for editing assistance, along with Preston E. Davis, Joshua L. Leavitt, and William E. Wight for general guidance and support.
CONTENTS
Book 1 - Earth
Chapter 1 - Balloon
Chapter 2 - She Calls Herself Victory
Chapter 3 - Treasure Hunt
Chapter 4 - Nosebleed
Chapter 5 - Consider
Chapter 6 - Temporary Immortality
Chapter 7 - Goodbye, Momma
Chapter 8 - Launch
Chapter 9 - Single-Wide
Book 2 - Zaxmorthia
Chapter 1 - Balloon's Enemy
Chapter 2 - Trailer Fever
Chapter 3 - Encounter
Chapter 4 - New Horizons
Chapter 5 - Lord Protector
Chapter 6 - Tacos and Prophecies
Chapter 7 - Attack of the First Class Protector
Chapter 8 - Wartime Comradeship
Chapter 9 - Star Sky
Soundtrack
Like all great works of fiction, this book comes with a soundtrack. To download a copy, visit balloonboyandtheporcupinepals.com.
Explanatory
In this book several characters use a distinct, southern dialect. The dialect has not been written in a haphazard fashion, or by guesswork; but painstakingly, and with the trustworthy guidance and support of personal familiarity with this form of speech.
BOOK 1 - EARTH
Chapter 1 - Balloon
Balloon Tells his Friends about His Mega-Powers,
and They Laugh at Him
"Balloon, you have been, and always will be, an absolute moron," laughed Tom Starley. "Seriously, you think you're some kind of genius now?"
Balloon wore his typical look of dim-witted stupidity. "I ain't tryin' to say I's some kinda genius nohow. All I's sayin' is, lately it seems I knows lotsa stuff, 'n what not."
"Come on, Balloon, you take a remedial math course at Midland Community, ditch out on studying to play Lord Protector all night, and then happen to guess right on one question. I'd hardly say that's knowing 'lotsa stuff,'" chided Tom.
Tom Starley's tall, thin body sat sprawled out on Balloon's 1970s era flower couch, his right hand playing with his own dark brown hair. He constituted one of Balloon's two closest "friends," if he could be characterized that way at all. However, Tom wasn't his friend in the true sense of the word. Rather, he only tolerated Balloon's presence for one reason: to laugh at him. He took pleasure in each of Balloon's various stupidities, idiocies, oddities, etc. Tom still had a good laugh every time Balloon called him to see if he wanted to "come over and play."
"Agreed," added Russ Gibson, "it was nothing more than a lucky guess, Balloon." Russ-average height and build, blue-eyed, donning sandy blonde hair-was Balloon's only other friend in the world. He didn't approach Balloon with the same contempt as Tom. Russ certainly wasn't above laughing at Balloon's expense, but his criticisms were typically less barbed.
Tom and Russ enjoyed discussing the mathematical improbabilities of Balloon's ability to stand upright and walk. Balloon's morbid obesity was both shocking and hilarious to them. The two often theorized that his scrawny legs would, at some point, crumple under the sheer mass of his perfectly round middle section. The first time Tom had said "you're fat" to Balloon, it was largely an accident. The words had just slipped out of his mouth during boring conversation. However, in later years, the phrase "you're fat" had become a signature response from Tom whenever he felt slightly annoyed with Balloon.
"Plus, you weren't even able to figure out how you came up with the right answer. You just guessed, Balloon," said Tom. "That doesn't make you smart. If you were truly a genius, which is quite an 'if,' you could have shown your professor how you got to the answer."
Russ suddenly became curious. "Seriously, Balloon, how'd you do it? Did you cheat? Nobody could possibly guess the correct answer out to the thousandth decimal. Did you get your hands on the answer sheet somehow?"
Balloon responded with suppressed agitation. "I done told y'all, I ain't no cheat. I's jist sittin' there takin' the quiz, 'n I ? didn't know what to do. Them triangles 'n stuff is real hard to figure. So, I jist decides to...." He trailed off. Balloon had originally told the story as if he'd entered Professor Morgan's classroom, sat down with an air of superiority, and owned the trigonometry quiz. Tom and Russ knew better. They knew Balloon didn't have the slightest idea how to do trigonometry; they knew he would eventually flunk out of the class, as he had done numerous times before; they knew he would once again drop the whole idea of "college" and re-embrace his meager existence as a telemarketer. Balloon continued in a subdued voice. "Well, y'all is right. I done study nothin' nohow. And, yeah, I's up all night playin' Lord Protector the night 'fore the quiz. So anyways, when it come time to do the first problem, I jist guessed at her. I ain't done nothin' but write the first numbers that come to ma mind: 17.5927."
Tom laughed with condescension. "See, you're no genius; you just guessed right. Come on, Balloon, you could take a million tests and never guess right again. You just got lucky. For once in your hideously obese, idiotic life you got lucky. The best part is, you still didn't get credit for the answer."
Russ didn't laugh. He had known Balloon for 10 plus years, and he knew dishonesty was not one of his numerous flaws. Balloon really wasn't creative enough to tell a good lie. He lacked the mental capacity, and perhaps the courage, to be dishonest. "Balloon, how many questions were on that quiz? You only got that one answer right?"
"That's jist it, boys. They was three a them there triangle things. And... 'n I gots ever one of 'em right." Balloon's initial hesitation in revealing this crucial fact slowly turned to a grin as the words left his mouth. Although he couldn't understand why, he knew that he had somehow "guessed" the correct answers on three math problems that were well beyond his simple abilities.
For the first time in their long, pseudo-friendship, Tom Starley and Russ Gibson contemplated Balloon without understanding. Russ looked at him incredulously. He did not believe Balloon would invent such a lie. But, at the same time, he knew better than to accept that Balloon was suddenly a mathematical whiz.
Tom was annoyed. "This is ridiculous, man. You call me up, make me drive all the way out here to your mommy's trailer, and then feed me a bunch of crap
about guessing games in your numbers for retards class?" Tom always prodded Balloon about his living arrangements. When Balloon turned 25, his parents became concerned he would never leave the house. He had clogged up their hallways, eaten substantial quantities of food, conserved too much water by neglecting his personal hygiene, and continually failed to divert his attention toward any household chores. For the previous seven years, Balloon's parents had taken numerous steps to get him out the front door. However, their subtle hints-which later turned to pleas, and eventually became demands-all went unheeded.
On his 25th birthday, Balloon's dad explained his present over store-bought birthday cake. "Boy, you done lived in this here house long enough. Me 'n yer momma got you a special present this year. It's time fer ya to go out on yer own 'n be a man." As he heard the words, Balloon stupidly thought his parents had finally bought him braces for his crooked teeth. However, without speaking another word, they packed him into their 1997 Crown Victoria and drove him out of the city. 20 miles south of Midland, Texas, in what appeared to be roving fields of junk, sat a single-wide trailer. It was positioned diagonally on the lot, surrounded by dead weeds and wind-transported trash.
"Uh...thanks, y'all." They were the only words Balloon had been able to muster. After the 25 second tour of the single-wide was complete, a knock came at the door. It was Tom Starley.
"Hey Balloon, your mommy told me she bought you a new house, so I wanted to come out and congratulate you. This place is sweet! Good call on not getting something new. When I get my single-wide, I'm definitely going used." The sarcasm dripped from his lips then, and it continued to do so every time Tom referred to Balloon's house. If Balloon had any sense of self-respect, Tom's continual jabs about his "mommy's trailer" would have annoyed him. However, Balloon only idiotically wondered why Tom hated his single-wide so much.
"Seriously, Balloon," said a clearly agitated Tom, "just tell us the truth. Just tell us you cheated on the quiz. I'd be much more impressed by your ability to cheat and not get caught than I am in your alleged genius escapades in math class for morons."
Balloon winced when Tom uttered the word "cheat." "Don't call me no cheat, Tommy," he pleaded. "I ain't no cheat, jist like I done told Professor Morgan. But he didna believe me nohow, jist like y'all ain't."
Russ, still struggling with Balloon's story, asked, "What did he say?"
"He done told me that if I don't shows him how I done them there triangles, that he ain't gonna believe I could git them jist right answers. When I tells him I jist knew them answers, he done told me I's a cheat 'n he gonna kick me outta class. I's like, 'no Mr. Morgan sir, I ain't no cheat.' And he's like, 'yes you is, boy.' And that was the whole deal."
"Well, a lot of good your newfound intelligence did you," laughed Tom. "Maybe Midland community has some remedial crayon-art classes you can take. Or you could try 'Spelling 101' for the fifth time."
"I's tellin' you, Tommy, I know lotsa stuff now. And it ain't jist them math questions. Like, on Lord Protector, I never used to could git past the second level. Y'all know, the one with them gargoyles 'n dragons 'n what not." Balloon had a penchant for mindless video games about warriors, dragons, wizards, and the like. Chief among this digital tripe was the "Lord Protector" series. Although Balloon was playing the 15th reincarnation of this dreadful game, he had never been able to get past the first or second level of any of the various versions. This was a source of great angst for Balloon, as he had read in Hardcore Gamer Daily that the first three levels of the Lord Protector series were uniformly designed to be easily defeated, in order to "hook" the player. Nevertheless, Balloon took some satisfaction in the fact that he had been hooked without even getting to level three.
"You've played that game every day and night for the past 12 years. It's no surprise that you finally beat the second level," reasoned Russ. "Did you use that cheater book I gave you?"
Although Russ typically enjoyed the drubbing Tom inflicted on Balloon, and often joined in the fun himself, deep down inside he had a soft spot for Balloon's pathetic existence. Russ recognized this odd sympathy, tracing it back to an incident from their junior year in high school. As an awkward adolescent, Balloon was tortured by everybody at Robert E. Lee High School: peers, teachers, administrative staff, even the lunch ladies.
On the last day of school, a particularly nefarious classmate had ridiculed Balloon to a point of anger nobody knew existed. Balloon snapped; he could no longer endure the torture. In a fit of rage, he put up his chubby fists and attempted a fighting stance. The taunter didn't hesitate, unleashing a fury of punches directed at Balloon's coke-bottle glasses. Balloon was no match for the onslaught. Upon connection of the first blow, Balloon collapsed, face down-his glasses skidding across the ground. He tried to cover the back of his head, but the attacker continued to kick and otherwise assail the numerous targets his mass offered. After it was finally over, Balloon had just lain there on the ground, inconsolably crying.
Russ had watched the entire ordeal. Although he knew Balloon trusted him as a friend, he did nothing to intervene. As Balloon lay sprawled out on the ground, Russ felt immense pity well up inside him. In the intervening 11 years, the image of Balloon's collapsed body had never left him. Russ still sometimes treated Balloon with the same contempt as Tom. However, the image often returned, causing Russ to offer Balloon glimpses of sincere friendship. Russ' gift of a Lord Protector cheater book had been such a gesture. Balloon was of course oblivious to all of this, too stupid to distinguish sarcasm and genuine concern. He had refused to use the book because it had "cheater" in the title.
"No, I ain't usin' no cheater book. I's tellin' y'all, I ain't no cheat," said Balloon. "I can beat that there whole game now; ain't no lie. I done beat ever level 'n even got to see them there credits at the end 'n everthang." Balloon's frustration at being called a cheater was replaced with a glow of excitement as he recalled his Lord Protector triumph.
"What a bunch of crap, Balloon. You might be able to cheat on a math test, but I know you can't beat Lord Protector. Show us," challenged Tom.
"Ain't no thang, y'all."
Sitting on Balloon's '70s style couch, the two watched in amazement as Balloon maneuvered through the various levels with ease. With absolute precision, Balloon destroyed each wizard, dragon, she-witch, and sorcerer. At the beginning of the game, Tom taunted Balloon, saying that anybody could beat Lord Protector. However, as the game went on, he became more and more silent. By the time Balloon reached the final levels, Tom and Russ watched in fascination.
At the moment Lord Protector destroyed the Grand Wizard, the credits began to roll. Balloon had not only saved the digital Princess, he had conquered the game.
"Balloon..... how did you do that?" asked a staggered Tom.
"I ain't got no idea nohow. She's kinda like when I took that there math quiz," Balloon explained. "When I gits to a part 'n I ain't got no clue, I jist guess on her in ma head. At first, I were tryin' to do what I thought I's sposed to do, 'n only guess once in a piece. Well.... that didna work so good. So, I jist started guessin' at ever part of the game.... 'n then I beat her."
Tom was visibly shocked. "What do you mean, 'guess at every part of the game?'"
"Like, if I is battlin' a devil dwarf, I jist guess what'll git her kilt, 'n what magical powers is needed. And ever time, it done worked. I ain't tellin' no lie, I got me some kinda genius powers now."
Russ tried to gather himself. He paced slowly from the single-wide kitchen to the single-wide living room, a distance of three or four steps. "Okay, Balloon, so every time you guess, you're right." He suddenly had an idea. He opened a kitchen drawer, pulling out a pencil and a sheet of paper. "I'm going to write down a number on this paper, and I want you to tell me what the number is."
"But I ain't got no clue what you is writin' on there," objected Balloon.
"Of course you don't, you moron. He wants you to guess. You know, like you did in math class, and through dozens of Lord Protector le
vels." Tom was annoyed with the prospect of a "genius" Balloon. He had been better than Balloon at everything since the day they met.
"He's right, Balloon. I wrote down a number on this paper and put it in my pocket. So just guess what the number is," said Russ.
"Okay, but is we talkin' like a number around zero 'n fifty, er we talkin' a real biggun?"
"Balloon, that doesn't matter. Just guess what the stupid number is!" shouted Tom.
"Oh, okay. Uh..... 4,594."
Russ blinked three or four times, looked at the piece of paper he had pulled out of his pocket, and raised his free hand to his forehead. "Yeah.... that's right," he muttered. He sat down at Balloon's card table and continued to blankly stare at the paper.
"Balloon, you're sure you didn't see what he wrote down?" asked Tom. Although he knew perfectly well that Balloon hadn't seen, the alternative explanation-that Balloon somehow knew what Russ had written-was almost frightening to him.
"No, I ain't seen nothin'. I promise y'all I ain't seen."
"Let's try this one. I've kept this a secret since high school; because I knew Russ would give me crap if he ever found out." Tom hesitated for a few seconds, and then proceeded. "Who was the first girl I had a crush on after I moved here?"
"Ain't no thang. It gotsta be Tara Maughn in tenth grade. You done tried to smooch on her at a basketball game 'n she socked ya real good."
The red tinge in Tom's face shifted from embarrassment to anger. "Balloon, don't think; don't remember! Just guess who it was. Because I can guarantee you don't have a clue."
"Alrighty then. Hmmm ... Claire Thompson?" Balloon said the first name that popped into his head, confident the answer was incorrect.
"That's impossible. No way Tom had a crush on her," said Russ. But Tom wasn't laughing. "Tom, is he right?" Russ asked.
"Yeah," Tom muttered, defeated. "It's true." Russ was tempted to harass Tom about his long-lost love for Claire Thompson, who was widely accepted as one of the vilest females in west Texas. However, he thought the better of it, exercising restraint out of respect for Tom's courage in revealing such a hideous truth.
After Tom was sure Russ wasn't going to attack, he spoke. "Balloon, this is insane. How long has this been going on?"
"I reckon ever since that there math quiz. I guessed on all of her, then on Lord Protector, 'n then today with y'all. I reckon I'ma genius now. Bad part is, I done got kicked outta school fer cheatin', so I ain't got noways to use ma smarts."
"Screw Midland College, dude," said Tom. "That place is for chumps. And, while I still think you're a chump, a place like that has nothing to offer you."
"I agree," said Russ. "Don't worry about getting kicked out." Although the words had come out of his mouth, his mind was somewhere else. He was thinking about asking Balloon a question of epic proportions, the answer to which could change the course of his life. It was a question he and Tom had argued about for over a decade. "Balloon, since you're a supergenius now, there's one thing I need to know- "
"No! You can't ask him that," shouted Tom. "It's totally unfair. He could be wrong, and then you'll think you've been right all along, and there's no way to prove it otherwise. No Russ, you can't ask him that question."
"Balloon, did Paul McCartney die in the 1960s?"