Balloon Boy and the Porcupine Pals: Antihooliganism
Page 5
****
The next day, Victory sat in her windowless office at Midland Community College among a stack of "how to" essays. The phone rang from beneath a pile of scattered, ink-laden papers. A low, hoarse voice spoke from the other end.
"This Friday night comes the event of the century. And y'all will only have one chance, in your entire life, to see it- "
"Who is this?" demanded an angry Victory.
"-to see it unfold. Playing at a mega-plex theater near you, it's the awesome, inspired, and revered movie: One Night Only."
"No thanks; I'm not interested."
"The movie will only play one night, ever. One Night Only will never be on DVD, Blu-ray, or cable television. If you miss it this Friday, you will never have a chance to see the greatest film of all time."
"I don't care about your movie. I'm hanging up now."
"Vic, wait up," said Balloon, venturing forth from the shadows of his best Dirty Harry impersonation. "I wanted to ask ya if'n you wants to go to the show with me, on accounta me bein' a millionaire 'n all."
"Balloon, I told you to leave me alone!" yelled Victory, in no mood for Balloon's antics. She moved the phone from her bright orange head, about to hang up. Then the words he said registered in her mind. "What are you talking about, you're a millionaire now?"
"Remember I called ya before, sayin' I knows lotsa stuff nowadays? Well, I reckon I knew enough stuff that me 'n Tommy 'n Russ got rich." Balloon laughed nervously. He knew he was breaking the rules. Tom and Russ had given him strict instructions not to tell anybody about the treasure trove. Tom had even emphasized that Balloon was not to tell that "despicable excuse for a human being Victory." Nevertheless, Balloon was unable to resist the urge to inform her about the money. Before displaying his genius capabilities to Victory, he had always believed she hated him because of his stupidity. However, when that didn't pan out, he figured it was money she was after. "So anyhows, if'n ya wanna go to that there show, I gots plenty o' cash to git ya a coke 'n popcorn 'n whatever else y'all want.... I heard this here One Night Only is sposed to be purty good too."
Victory was silent. As before, she struggled with the idea of a dishonest Balloon; he had never been that way before. But the other alternative, that Balloon was now a genius millionaire, seemed completely unbelievable. After a few seconds, she spoke: "Balloon, what's going on here? I'm really... uh ... confused." Victory had never used the "I'm confused" bit when talking with a male before. She had always felt the female use of the phrase was contrived, trite, disingenuous, and a total cop-out. However, now that she had done it, she felt an odd exhilaration, as if she wielded some sort of power that was not her own. Despite her better judgment, she said it again for emphasis. "Yeah, Balloon, I'm just really confused about everything that's going on with you right now."
"What ya mean, confused?" Balloon was lost. He had never experienced Victory in a state of indecision. Her choices were always clear, and they never involved him.
Suddenly, Victory made a decision. "When do you get off work? I'm coming over tonight."
Balloon would have dropped the phone, if it hadn't been attached to his huge head. He mumbled the first phrase he could conjure. "Do what now?"
"I said I'm coming over tonight. Give me your address."
"So, ya don't wanna come to the show nomore? Or ya want me to git Tommy to hack it off the interwebs?"
"I never wanted to watch the movie, Balloon. And it's not called the interweb; it's the internet. What's your address?" Victory reached into her desk for a piece of a paper and a red pen.
"Uh... okay. She's at the crossways of 1200 'n 150, way yonder south a Midland. She's a single-wide jist hangin' out there kinda by herself on 150." Balloon paused, frantically thinking about how he could entertain Victory on their first date. "You wanna play some video games? I gots ever Lord Protector game ever made."
"No, Balloon. I'm not interested in playing Lord Protector. Don't plan anything for me. I don't want to watch movies, play games, eat dinner, or anything like that. I just need to see you, to..." Victory couldn't believe what was coming out of her mouth, "... figure out what's going on with all this stuff you're saying." She suddenly become upset with her need for Balloon, kicking her tremendous foot against the metal-frame desk in her office.
"What's that noise? Y'all okay?"
"Shut up, Balloon. What time do you get home?"
"'Bout 5:30, mosta the time."
"I'll see you at 6:00. Goodbye."
"Alrighty, but what-"
The phone was already disconnected. The prospect of an actual date with Victory propelled Balloon into shock. He stared blankly into his prompt screen for the next 15 minutes, completely unaware of his surroundings. Drool flowed down his chin rolls. One of his coworkers suspected he had suffered some type of seizure, but did nothing. When Balloon awoke from his stupor, he frantically shut down his Telemarx system and approached his supervisor.
"Uh... hey there boss. I gots to go early today."
"Why?" asked Balloon's supervisor, an idiot who had just been promoted to afternoon manager due to his unparalleled success in "Fat Off" sales.
"I gots to go ... clean up ma single-wide."
"But it's only 2:00 p.m. You've got another three hours here."
"I really gots to git her clean though; someone's comin' over tonight."
"That's not my problem, Balloon. You're scheduled to work until 5:00, not 2:00. You can't leave yet."
"Sorry boss, but I ain't got time to stay that late. How 'bout if'n I make some extra calls next time?"
The new supervisor saw a golden opportunity to admonish a subordinate for the first time, and seized upon it immediately. "Alright, Balloon, you can go. But if you leave now, you're fired. You won't be welcomed back."
"But what 'bout all the time off I gots comin'? I ain't missed a day nohow in two years."
"But we need you today. And you didn't fill out the paperwork for time off. I'm not going to say this again: if you leave, you're fired."
Balloon spent little time making the decision. He had wanted a date with Victoria Gold for as long as his crippled, slow brain could remember. "Sorry, but I reckon I needs to go now." Balloon began to lumber toward the glass-door exit.
His supervisor yelled from behind so all the other employees could hear. "That's fine, Balloon. Walk out on us. I don't want to ever see you in here again! You got that?"
Balloon said nothing. He was nervous about losing his job at Telemarx, but he tried to avoid the thought of being unemployed, instead focusing on the immeasurable glory of a date with Victory. Balloon started his Metro and drove home.