Balloon Boy and the Porcupine Pals: Antihooliganism

by Mort Gloss

"Well, what ya think, Vic? We done made it to astro space!" said an excited Balloon, as he unstrapped Victory from the flower couch.

  "I think you need to work on a smoother blastoff. I've got the worst headache of my life," responded Victory. "And why was it so loud? Didn't you install mufflers on this thing?"

  Balloon's smile faded. "I's gonna git ya some plugs er somethin' to shove in yer ear fer next time. Anyhow, you gotta come in the command center and see out that window. You can see Texas, well at least part of her, and everthang else."

  "It's not a command center; it's your bedroom," she said, reluctantly following Balloon. She was horrified about being in the same room where Balloon slept.

  "Look at her," said Balloon, pointing at the scene outside the single-wide. "Can you believe we was jist there a piece back?"

  Before she could respond, Tom spoke from his command chair, never taking his eyes off the viewing window. "Victory, you survived the launch. Congratulations. Based on your screaming, we thought you may have burned up in earth's atmosphere."

  "We're, of course, glad you didn't though," added Russ.

  Victory ignored them, instead taking a few moments to look out the viewing window. The earth was now further away, although it still occupied the entire scene. After a few moments, she left the command center and went into the single-wide's living area. Once there, she began rummaging through her luggage, trying to find the prescription strength pain medication she had packed.

  Back in the command center, the three travelers continued to muse over the scene.

  "Know what I can't figure?" said Balloon. "She's so quiet. I know them rockets is loud though, and look at that big earth movin' 'round."

  "We've been over this, Balloon," responded Russ, a sigh escaping his lips before he spoke, "there's no air out here. If there's no air, there's no way for the sound to travel."

  "But whatta 'bout Star Trek and Battlestar Galactica and all that? In them movies, ya can hear stuff crashin', 'n them lasers firin', 'n rockets blastin'."

  "Yes, Balloon, but those things are pretend," laughed Tom. "Our space voyage is real. So you need to quit using Star Trek as a reference point."

  "I wonder if anybody down there detected the launch," said Russ. "I'm sure there's some kind of monitoring system for single-wide trailer space launches. What's the answer, Balloon?"

  "Yup. We was picked up on a whole heap a screens and what not; they's a whole bunch a lights blinkin' right now. Y'all think they's gonna come after us 'n make us come back?"

  "I'm doubting they'll make us come back, Balloon," answered Tom. "It would take them a month just to launch something up here. But it is an interesting question. So ask yourself this: how long would it take the feeble earthlings to intercept us?"

  Balloon asked himself the question. "They's a space station up yonder here that could git to us in 'bout the next three hours," answered Balloon. "But they can't do nothin' to hurt us. They can jist look at us."

  "Well there you go," said Russ. "Nothing to worry about."

  "However," added Tom. "We may want to get out of here before they come, just so we don't become famous for our white trash space voyage. I don't want my face plastered all over television from inside the window of this single-wide. Although ...." Tom trailed off, thinking about the potential benefits of celebrity status upon their return.

  Victory re-entered the room. "So what are we doing now? Just sitting here waiting for my dad's head to explode?"

  "Pretty high on the tension scale there, Victory," remarked Tom. "We're just enjoying the scene here for a few minutes. I don't think your dad would mind."

  "Vic's right, boys," said Balloon, ever eager to get on Victory's unknown good side, "we's better git this heap movin' if we's gonna make it to Sombrero 'n back in time."

  Russ stood up from his command chair and stretched. "Answer me this," he said. "How long will it take us to get to Sombrero?"

  "At present speed, the voyage will take one billion-"

  "No, not at present speed. Sorry, my mistake. How long will the voyage through space take us, if we go in a straight line, once the dual drive tachypulsometer is fully engaged?"

  "29 days."

  "Yeah, but how long will it take us if we stop off for donuts every morning?" added Tom.

  "115 days."

  "I think it's worth it. What do you say, Victory? I know you love a good donut in the morning."

  Victory didn't respond.

  "What am I saying?" said Tom. "I'm sure Balloon here brought a year's supply of donuts. Tucked away under the sink, Balloon?"

  "Sorry, Tommy," said Balloon, a saddened look on his face. "I didn't bring you er Vic no donuts."

  "It's alright, Balloon," responded Tom, shaking his head in feigned disappointment. "I guess me and Victory will have to make do with what we have onboard. You do have bagels though, right?"

  "Well, I-"

  "That's enough," interrupted Russ. "He's just joking, Balloon."

  Victory continued to stand in the command center, her arms folded, her eyes fixed firmly on Russ. Beginning to wilt under her stare, Russ decided it was time to leave.

  "Alright, Balloon, we better get this show on the road. What do we need to do to activate the dual drive?"

  Balloon moved toward the gaming console in front of the command chairs. "Nothin' much," he answered. "We jist gotta flip a few a these switches here 'n we's all good. Everbody ready?"

  "I know I am," answered Victory through pursed lips.

  Balloon remembered his mistakes during the launch. "Wait a sec, Vic. We gots to git you all strapped in, 'n earplugs in yer head 'n all. I done want you gittin' more headaches."

  "Balloon, we've been over this," interjected Tom. He was becoming impatient. "It's not going to be loud. The only people on this white trash spaceship who need ear plugs are me, you, and Russell." He then turned his attention to Victory. "Go strap yourself in, Victoria. Get a good book, something 18th century British preferably, and leave us alone about hurrying up." Finally, he looked at Russ. "And you, Russell, you're copilot this time. Balloon's not that good at giving instructions, so don't get us killed. Now let's get this party started!" With that, Tom tightened the seatbelt on his command chair, put his hands behind his head, and closed his eyes.

  "Alright," responded Russ. "Bring it on. What do I do, Balloon?"

  Balloon spoke as he flipped various switches, occasionally pausing to ask himself a question about the single-wide's controls. "Ain't much to her. That there crossways pad is fer goin' up 'n down 'n sideways. That round one's fer goin' straight er backwards er turnin'. And that there button," he explained, gesturing "gits us movin' faster, 'n that-a-one slows us down a piece. Them buttons on top is fer lasers 'n rockets 'n stuff, but we ain't gonna need them right now."

  "Did you say lasers?" asked Tom, opening his eyes and sitting up.

  "Yeah, lasers. I got 'em to fight them bandits out there."

  Russ laughed. "Balloon, what other surprises have you installed on this thing?"

  "Y'all seen most of it by now, but I gots a real big surprise fer y'all later when everbody gits real tired. It's the best one of-"

  "Wait a second, Balloon. You said that if I came on this white trash adventure I'd be fine. Now you're talking about shooting laser cannons at space bandits. What's the deal?" Tom was beginning to wonder whether Balloon had lied to him. He also wondered whether Balloon's oft-mentioned "space bandits" actually existed.

  "I done told you, boys," said Balloon, defensively, "y'alls gonna be fine. I jist put them space rockets on here to fight some bandits. But y'all ain't gonna git hurt noways." Balloon continued flipping switches as they spoke, causing a faint electronic humming sound to permeate the command center.

  "So what are you doing now?" asked Russ, trying to change the subject.

  "These here switches make the single-wide go real fast. They gotta take a few minutes to warm up."

  "How fast is 'real fast?'" asked Tom.

&nbs
p; Balloon asked himself the question and responded without conscience thought or awareness of what he was saying. "The single-wide trailer, through the infinite energies created by the dual-drive tachypulsometer, will travel at nearly 68 trillion miles per second, to be exact, 67 trillion 890 billion miles per second."

  "Seems pretty fast," said Russ, a smile on his face. "At that speed, how long will it take us to get to Jupiter? I've been excited to take a look at it."

  Balloon stayed in question and answer mode. "If we were traveling toward Jupiter, we would arrive in less than a second. However, the single-wide trailer won't be traveling in that direction." Balloon went on making preparations as his head took over his mouth to answer the various questions.

  "Oh duh," said Russ. "I didn't even think about us not going that way. Ah well, I guess we'll get to see some other stuff while we're out here."

  Victory's familiar screaming again filled the room. Balloon mumbled some response while he strapped himself into his command chair.

  "Alright, boys," he said. "This time I's given y'all fair warnin'. When I push this here green button, we should start movin' purty fast."

  "Well, wait a second," said a concerned Tom. "If we're going to be moving 'pretty fast', what are you going to do to make sure we don't run into anything? You know, like some big planet, or an asteroid, or a space bandit's vacation home?"

  Balloon scratched his greasy head while he thought through the question. "I weren't thinkin' 'bout that," he responded, causing Russ and Tom to exchange a glance of incredulity. "Well, how 'bout this? If'n I says to ma head, what's the best way to steer this here single-wide trailer straight at the Sombrero Galaxy, without runnin' into something, 'n then when we gits it on the jist right course I can put her on auto astro-space flyin' mode."

  "That should work," responded Russ, "as long as you're sure you're steering us the direction your head says to when we start up. How does auto pilot work?"

  "You gots to hit these here two buttons simul... simul... at the same time," explained Balloon, indicating.

  "Don't strain yourself there, Balloon," laughed Tom. "We need you fresh for the next launch."

  Russ mimicked Balloon's hand movements on the game controller. "Like that?" he asked.

  "You got her figured."

  "Alright, I think I'm ready," said Russ, a tremor of excitement in his voice.

  While the space travelers prepared for the next launch, the earth had drifted further away. Instead of occupying the entire viewing window, it could now be seen in the context of its black-space backdrop.

  Tom looked at the scene, a disbelieving grin on his face. "Say goodbye, boys. Let's hope she's still here when we get back."

  "We're not going to be gone that long," said Russ, more to himself than to Tom.

  Balloon quickly looked at Tom and then shifted his gaze to the ground. "Y'all ready then?" he said, somewhat sheepishly.

  "Ready," answered Russ. "Give us a countdown, Tom."

  "Hold up jist a sec," said Balloon. He looked toward the living room and yelled: "Vic! Git yerself set. We's 'bout to take off again."

  "It's about time!" she screamed in response.

  "Alright, go fer it," said Balloon.

  "Hold up there, big boy," said Tom. "Two things. First, Balloon, make sure you ask your gigantic head the exact way to steer this thing so we don't die."

  "Got her," answered Balloon. He closed his eyes, asked himself the question he had previously prepared, and moved his thumbs across the controller in compliance with the instructions received from his brain.

  "Second, would you prefer a countdown from ten, or a countdown from three? Those seem to be the standard variations. Three likely makes more sense in this situation, since Balloon's already configured his fingers in preparation for the launch. However, ten would give everybody more time to mentally prepare. What say ye?"

  "Maybe we do six, just to play it safe on both fronts," said Russ, with a feigned tone of seriousness.

  "And what about our Captain here? What do you think, Balloon?"

  "I can't figure it matters much. I's good for whatever y'all er thinkin'."

  "I just don't want to take this duty lightly, Balloon. I've never been the countdown man on an astro-space launch. You know what I mean? This is sort of a big deal."

  "Okay," said Balloon, still unsure of how to respond.

  "Alright then," said Tom after a few moments. "I've made my decision. We're going to countdown from six, as suggested by Russell. That seems to best serve all the competing interests."

  "Excellent choice, Thomas," said Russ.

  "Thank you, sir. Now let us begin. Six.... five.... four.... three.... two.... Are you confident you're ready, Balloon?"

  "All set," he said.

  "Just making sure. Alright, where were we? Ah yes. Three.... two.... one.... Now blast off this white trash spaceship!"

  Balloon pressed his gigantic thumb against the button on his controller, but nothing seemed to happen.

  Tom shouted again. "Punch it, Balloon! What are we waiting for?"

  "I hit this here button when you said 'blast off.' Ain't nothin' happened."

  "Wait a second," said Russ, looking out the viewing window. "I think something did happen. Where's earth?"

  The three travelers gazed out the window. Instead of seeing their home planet, they now saw the black emptiness of space. Stars on the outer edges of the window moved closer to them and passed along the sides, like street lights on a dark road.

  "Balloon," Russ said, breaking the silence. "What's our present speed? Guess."

  "67 trillion 890 billion miles per second," came the automated response. And then the real Balloon broke through. "Man, we's movin' at a good piece."

  "I bet we just broke every speed record known to man," said Tom, still watching the stars.

  "You think?" responded Russ, laughing.

  The travelers watched out the window as dozens of stars passed by on either side. At times, the single-wide would come closer to celestial objects, revealing bright yellow, deep orange, or crisp blue colors. The three gazed at the scene without speaking. They would occasionally hear Victory's snores booming from the common room of the single-wide. After a quarter of an hour, the stars became thicker, now streaming by the single-wide in clusters.

  "Balloon," asked Russ, "guess how long it will take us to get out of the Milky Way."

  "They ain't no Milky Way to run out of, Russ. I done bring none a that nohow. I gotta whole heapa Snickers bars though."

  "Guess how long it will take us to get out of the Milky Way Galaxy please," Russ added.

  "That's gonna be jist a titch over an hour's all," came the answer.

  "Alright, nerd alert. What does that mean?" asked Tom, seeking clarification.

  Russ explained. "The Milky Way is the name of our galaxy. Well, at least that's what we call it. All the stars out there are part of our own galaxy. Once we leave the Milky Way, we won't be seeing stars like this all up close, well at least I don't think we will. I think it will be a lot more wide open."

  "How do you know all this crap?" asked Tom, trying to sound condescending.

  "Well, when I knew we were going to be in outer space for a few months, I decided to study up on the whole space thing a bit. Of course, Balloon has a lot more information than the book I checked out from the library."

  Tom leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. "Space," he said, emphasizing the word. "What a stupid name."

  "Why is it stupid?" challenged Russ.

  "It's just stupid," answered Tom. "Some geek scientist with thick glasses must have thought it up."

  "Well what would you call it?"

  "I don't know, something cooler. Some word with a 'z' and an 'x' in it, and at least three or four syllables."

  "Yeah, you're right," answered Russ. "That would make a lot more sense."

  "Know what I can't figure?" interjected Balloon. "Whenever they's travelin' through astro-space, er... w
hatever we's callin' it, they always got these laser beam lookin' things flyin' past. I done see a single laser out theres though."

  Tom sat up in his chair. "Again, Balloon, quit using Star Trek as your reference point. That's just something you saw in a movie."

  "Hey, that reminds me, Balloon. I got a question for you. How many stars have we passed since we left earth?" asked Russ.

  "We's passed 189,465,337 stars since we hit the go button."

  "Okay, and how many of those stars had planets orbiting them? Just give me a percentage."

  "100 percent," came the response.

  "Really? Wow. Okay, what percentage of those stars have some form of life orbiting them on those planets?"

  "99.2 percent."

  "I sense another nerd alert coming on," interrupted Tom.

  "Shut it. This is really interesting. Okay, one more question then. Of the 99.2 percent, what percentage of those planets have a life form that is at least as intelligent as the human race?"

  "Why do you care?" said Tom, annoyed.

  "I just want to know if there are others out there, like aliens."

  "You mean 'space bandits,'" laughed Tom.

  "So what's the answer, Balloon?"

  "100 percent."

  "Unbelievable," said Russ, a look of wonder in his face.

  "That's enough of this crap," said Tom, "I need to get some food. Answer this mysterious question, Balloon. What are the chances I can get something to eat in the kitchen without waking up that hateful pile of flesh in the other room?"

  "3 percent," came the response.

  "I knew I should have brought something in here. Oh well," said Tom.