Balloon Boy and the Porcupine Pals: Antihooliganism

by Mort Gloss

  ****

  The next day, Balloon went to his parents' house to say his goodbyes. He had sentimental thoughts as he drove his Metro into its regular parking spot along the side of the house where he grew up. Balloon grinned with familiarity as he lumbered along the worn pathway up to the front door. Upon entering the house and moving toward the kitchen, he was shocked to see that his mom was not there. It was rare that he didn't find her sitting at the dining room table, reading Oh My Gossip magazine and doing something with her fingernails. He checked the cupboard and was again disappointed; it appeared his mother had neglected to buy his favorite choco-fudge-triple-stuff cookies. He had hoped to have some before launching the single-wide the following day.

  He wandered down the hallway, hearing shouts from the TV room as he went. What he saw next shocked him. His parents, both of them, were sitting in the same room, watching the same television show: Get Your Talent On.

  "That's a heapa garbage!" his dad was shouting. "Denim's twice the singer Angel Child's ever gonna be."

  "I know, baby. It don't seem fair. Denim ain't never been treated right on this show. He has such a nice voice." As she spoke, Balloon's mother put her hand on his father's knee.

  Balloon stood at the entrance of the TV room, bewildered. Not only had he never once known his parents to watch television together, he had never seen them really communicate, at least not in friendly words. His mouth dropped open when he saw his mother actually touch his father's leg.

  "Hey, y'all," he mumbled, still reeling from the scene.

  His father didn't notice him, frantically navigating the buttons on his phone in order to place a last second vote for Denim. His mother spoke to him without looking.

  "Hey, Sugah," she said. "What brings you by?"

  Before Balloon could respond, his father started shouting at the phone: "see, it's a big 'ol scam. They keep the line fer Denim busy so they ain't nobody who can vote fer him!"

  Balloon again tried to speak. "I's jist wantin' to come over 'n say bye to y'all 'n that I ain't gonna be 'round for a good...."

  "Boy!" yelled his father, "yer gonna havta wait a piece until this thing goes to commercial. Ever once in a while they show the votin' results 'fore the break."

  "Yer daddy's right, baby; it'll just be a few minutes yonder."

  Balloon sulked to the couch, cast his tremendous body into a sitting position, and picked up a copy of his mother's Oh My Gossip magazine. He was vaguely hopeful he might be able to find an article about Certain Death. His parents shouted a few more times at the TV, and eventually the show's host said, "tonight's winner is ... going to be announced after our next commercial break!" Balloon quickly put down the magazine and began to speak.

  "Hey, y'all, I's gonna be goin' on a purty long trip, so y'all ain't gonna see me 'round."

  Neither of his parents were listening. His father was back on the phone, trying to place a last-second vote for Denim. His mother was examining her bright pink fingernails, occasionally buffing them with a file. Despite her lack of attention, his mother had learned to talk to him without listening to a word he said.

  "That's great, baby. I'm so glad to hear it," she said, now primping her hair-sprayed head.

  Balloon's father became agitated. "Quit yackin' y'all two; the show's 'bout to come back on."

  "Pappy, I's tryin' to tell y'all I ain't gonna be back for a while, 'n maybe even never... er longer."

  "Well, yer welcome to come back jist as soon as the show's over," said his father, mishearing what Balloon had said.

  Balloon sunk back down into the couch. He had hoped to have a few moments of undivided attention from his parents. He could tell, however, that there was no chance. After a few more minutes of screaming at the TV, frantic phone calls, and primping, he decided to say his last farewell.

  "Thanks y'all for everthang you've did fer me. I know it weren't easy 'n that y'all had to put up with a lot from me." He stood up from the couch, pulling up his pants and sniffing loudly. "Hope I see y'all again someday." Turning to walk down the hall, he said, "See ya, Pappy. Bye, Momma."

  His parents sent an automatic "see ya" toward the sound of his voice, never taking their attention from the television.