by Mort Gloss
****
"Lord Protector? What's that all about?" asked Russ.
"Don't make none sense," answered Balloon.
"Again, supergenius, he's asking you to guess what the natives here meant," said Tom. The aliens, who had recently been holding both he and Russ at spear-point, now bowed in submission at the site of Balloon and Victory.
Balloon pressed his eyelids together hard before he spoke. "They thinkin' I'ma some kinda supreme lord commander type."
Tom laughed hard. "We need to run with that."
"Why would they mistake you for their commander?" asked Russ, perplexed.
Balloon spit out the answer: "on account a me havin' the look of one of they's big-time bosses from way back yonder."
"This is getting a bit freaky," interjected Tom. "First your brain saves us, then your looks? I'm not sure I can handle this."
Victory stood next to the car, her arms folded. "What do you morons plan to do now?"
"I don't know about these clowns," answered Tom, "but I'm going to be looking for food in the not-too-distant future."
"Balloon," said Russ, ignoring Tom, "we need to start a dialogue with these people. They're just sitting there bowing at you."
"Start us a whatsit?"
"We need to talk to these dudes," clarified Tom. "As much as I love being worshiped, this is getting awkward."
"What y'all want me to say to 'em?"
"Victory, ideas?" asked Tom. Victory raised an eyebrow in response. "Okay, nothing there. Russ, what you got?"
Russ looked toward the aliens, their faces still bowed low to the ground. "Tell them we have traveled a great distance and need their help."
"I'm liking this; I'm really liking this, Balloon," said Tom, enthusiastically. "Except I would add that we need some food, preferably something that will blow our minds."
"Y'all want me to ask these here for hep 'n food. Got it."
"But in no particular order," clarified Tom.
"I got her figured." Balloon began his usual process of translating west Texas English to Zaxmorthian by squinting hard and asking himself how to say the words. As before, his mouth emitted screeches, growls, and various sniffing noises in order to speak with the Zaxmorthians. (*The translation process is hereafter omitted.)
"We alls come before y'alls needin' hep, 'n some food, 'n what not," sputtered Balloon.
The natives looked at one another with surprise. Their apparent leader, completely unsure of himself, responded. "We are at your service, Lord Protector. Anything you need or desire will be given to you, so long as we are able and equipped to give it."
"This 'Lord Protector' thing has got to stop, Balloon," said Tom, after receiving the translation. "I think I'm going to be sick."
"No, I think this works," answered Russ. "What's the harm in them believing he's some kind of supreme commander?"
"Well, for one," said Tom, "they might actually figure out he's just an idiot."
"Too late for that," said Victory.
"Do your best to appear intelligent and commander-ish then, Balloon," said Russ, realizing the ridiculousness of what he was saying as the words came out of his mouth.
"Oh nice, that's going to work," laughed Tom. "Balloon, just tell them we have traveled a great distance and we require food and provisions."
"Provisions?" said Russ.
"Yeah, provisions. It sounds intelligent and commander-ish, doesn't it?"
Balloon fumbled through the translation. "We come real far 'n it took a good piece to git here. We all's gonna need some provisions 'n food 'n what not."
"You and your escort may follow me, Supreme Commander. I retain a suitable feeding station in my living quarters," said the apparent leader of the aliens.
"Feeding station?" said Tom. "Sounds like these dudes are rollin' buffet style."
The mouthpiece for the natives rose to his feet and motioned with his hand for Balloon and Victory to follow. Although it was not entirely clear, it appeared to both Tom and Russ that they were excluded from his beckoning. As indicated by the alien leader, Balloon and Victory moved to follow. Tom and Russ attempted to do the same, but were immediately stopped.
"You two are not welcome in my quarters. If you require assistance, you will need to seek it from the servants," said the alien leader.
"Balloon, you tell fluffy here that where you go, we go," said Tom, annoyed.
"Wait a second," interrupted Russ, "we probably don't want to cause a big commotion here, especially since it's our first interaction with these people. Let's just let this thing ride for now."
"Alright, fine," answered Tom, "but you better make it clear to him that we aren't working for you, Balloon. And also figure out where his 'servants' are so we can try to get some grub."
Through grunts, sniffs, and howls that seemed to Tom to go on for hours, although it was just a matter of minutes, Balloon convinced the apparent leader of the aliens to summon a Zaxmorthian servant to accommodate Tom and Russ.
"He tellin' me they's some servant girl named Rita er somethin' 'n she's gonna show up here in a couple a minutes 'n take y'all somewheres fer some food 'n whatever else y'alls may need."
Victory laughed as the plans were finalized. "Well, Starley, it took going halfway across the universe, but somebody finally put you in your place."
Tom shrugged, grinning sarcastically. "Victoria, although we must part briefly, I will be back at your side momentarily, never fear. Enjoy your time alone with Balloon."
Victory clenched her jaw as she and Balloon were led away by the alien leader and the majority of the multitude. Other than a few portly children, nobody remained.
"We're getting the short end of this stick, Gibson," said Tom. "What the deuce is with these people calling Balloon 'Lord Protector?'"
"Balloon said he physically resembles some well-known government leader. I guess it's just that simple."
"How could somebody as ridiculously ugly as Balloon resemble anyone of value?"
"Who knows? One thing is certain; I won the bet. These people, from all appearances, are exactly like us. It's a good thing too; I got a real hankering for some Lucky Charms."
"As if, Gibson. You thought they'd have a pointy ear or a weird eyebrow or some garbage like that. You never predicted they would be 100 percent human."
"I'm not out of the race yet. They may have some simple variation we haven't discovered. For whatever reason, they all appear to be slightly overweight; perhaps that's the difference. Yet while I'm still in the running, we have conclusively determined that your prediction was a total bust."
Tom was barely paying attention as Russ finished his counterargument. Instead, he was focused on a woman walking toward them. She was not like the others. She was the first person they had encountered who did not appear over-nourished. She had shoulder-length, dark brown hair and a fair complexion. Similar to the others, she wore gray overalls, although hers were tattered and threadbare. She stopped in front of Tom and Russ and hissed sharply, an annoyed look on her face.
"Rita, I presume," said Tom, bowing his head. "So much for your overweight theory, Gibson; she's beautiful."
"Don't get too excited. I haven't lost yet."
Rita snarled again, this time with a lower pitch and a few more syllables. As she did so, she turned around and began walking back toward the pods.
"For the first time in my life, Gibson, I may be glad I lost."
Russ rolled his eyes and began following the girl. Tom was close behind.
"Well, to be more precise," he added, "this is the first time in my life I've lost at anything, period."
Chapter 6 - Tacos and Prophecies
The Heroes Eat Tacos and Learn Zaxmorthian History;
Lilia Begins Execution of Nabashio's Plan