by Mort Gloss
"Get to the point, Balloon," demanded Victory, sucking down calories through a giant straw and speaking between gulps, "ask him about the cure."
"I ain't even got his name yet," answered Balloon. "Seems like I should git that first."
"As if his name is relevant," sighed Victory. "Fine, get his name. Let's all share names and personal history; won't that be nice? We can all go out for brunch afterward."
"What's y'alls' name, sir?" asked Balloon, attempting to be polite.
The alien leader gave him an odd expression before responding: "My name is Pedro; I am the guardian of this tribe, one of many here on Zaragozo." Pedro hesitated before reciprocating the question. "And what are you known by, my Lord Protector?"
"Everbody calls me Balloon, 'n this here's Victory."
Upon hearing her name snarled in the Zaxmorthian language, Victory smirked from behind her feeding tube and gave a halfhearted wave of her hand. She finished a particularly large gulp and whispered to Balloon in a hissing voice: "alright, we're all friends now. You said these people could help us, so get to the point."
Somewhat apprehensively, Balloon spoke to Pedro in the Zaxmorthian tongue. "Uh, Mr. Pedro, sir," stuttered Balloon through the language barrier, "we is wonderin' if'n y'all could point us to the best right way to git our hands on the ball o' power y'alls got round 'bout these parts?"
Pedro stared blankly at Balloon. "I do not know of that which you speak, Lord Protector."
"What did he say?" asked Victory, impatient.
"He says he done know nothin' 'bout what I's sayin'."
"Well, have you tried figuring out what they call the cure in his language? Don't tell me you asked him where you could find the ball of power." Balloon sheepishly looked toward the ground. "Unbelievable. Ask yourself what they call it in his language, you moron."
Balloon obeyed her commands, scrunching up his face and finding the proper term. "They's callin' it the 'Protective Essence!'" said Balloon, excited by his discovery.
"Well good," answered Victory. "Now you won't sound quite as stupid as you did before."
Balloon turned toward Pedro. "What I's meanin' to ask, sir, is if'n y'all could tell us how to git our hands on that there Protective Essence y'alls got."
Pedro again responded with a perplexed expression. "My Captain," he said, "as you are well-aware, the Protective Essence is closely guarded at the center of the galaxy."
"Yeah, we got that part all figured," answered Balloon. "We been up yonder to where the ball o' pow...., er the Protective Essence is sittin'. We jist lookin' fer some hep 'n what not to try 'n git her fer a little piece."
"My Commander," answered Pedro, somewhat hesitant, "perhaps I do not catch your meaning. It was my understanding, based on the transmissions of the Protector Class, that you have come to quell a hooligan uprising of some sort." Pedro looked over to Victory as she finally finished slurping from the feeding tube. "Are the skinny with which you travel the perpetrators?"
"Puppataters....., er what?" asked Balloon, unsure what Pedro was saying.
"I must say, my Lord," answered Pedro, "you have a distinct dialect, one I have never encountered before. I am wondering whether those skinny fellows whom you arrived with are the criminals spoken of by the Protector Class."
Victory noticed a pause in the conversation and interrupted. "What's he saying, Balloon?"
"They's got a message from some sorta guys 'bout criminals on the loose in his here planet Zaragozo, 'n he thinks maybe they's Tommy 'n Russ."
"Well tell him he's right; they are criminals, and they need to be put in some kind of torture chamber or prison." Victory grinned devilishly as she spoke.
"But, Vic...."
"Oh shut it, Balloon. I'm not being serious. What does he know about how we can get to the Protective Essence?"
"We ain't got much into thatta one yet. All he's thinkin' 'bout is them baddies."
Victory knowingly sighed as she realized what was happening. "Balloon, don't you get it? We are the criminals he was contacted about. The people you morons were shooting at must have tracked us here somehow. Ask yourself if that's what happened."
Balloon obeyed and spit out the answer: "you got her figured." He then realized the import of what Victory had just discovered, becoming visibly nervous. "What we gonna do, Vic?"
Victory thought for a second, and then clenched her teeth with resolve. "This guy was calling you some kind of lord when we got here. Who does he think you are?"
Balloon twisted up his face to work on the translation. However, before he could begin speaking to Pedro, Victory interrupted him. "Wait, Balloon," she said, "what are you going to say?"
"I's jist gonna ask Pedro who this here Lord Protector guy is. I's thinkin' maybe they gots the video game er somethin' round these parts 'n maybe he knows I's a deadeye on her."
Victory rolled her eyes in frustration. "Of course they don't have the video game." She thought for a few seconds. "We don't want him to think that you doubt the title, just in case they really have mistaken you for somebody of importance. I meant you should ask yourself who this Lord Protector is."
"Oh, I got her figured now," answered Balloon. "Sorry."
"Don't try to figure anything out, just guess."
Pedro, who had been excluded from their foreign conversation, abruptly cleared his throat and sent a forced smile toward Balloon. "Is everything alright, your Lordship?" he asked. "It is quite unnecessary for you to speak in veiled language to your companion. I am a faithful servant."
"We ain't tryin' to keep no secrets," answered Balloon. "She don't speak y'alls language 'round these parts, given it's a good piece yonder up to where she's from."
"I see," answered Pedro. "Well, to get back to my question. Are the skinny with which you arrived the hooligan criminals sought by the Protector Class? They must be far more dangerous than I originally anticipated, given the involvement of somebody of your stature."
"Nah, they ain't no criminals. They's with me."
Pedro raised an eyebrow and again cleared his throat. "Very well. Would you like to partake at this time then?"
"Partake?" asked Balloon, unsure of his meaning.
"Yes, your Lordship. Partake. I have equipped the feeding mechanism with some of our finest cuisine. Although, I fear it will pale in comparison to the delicacies with which you are accustomed."
"Ain't no thang," answered Balloon, suddenly aware of his own hunger. Pedro motioned him to a feeding station in the corner of his pod, near the spot where Victory had previously eaten.
Victory again hiss-whispered to Balloon as he sat down. "Well, what's the answer?" she asked.
"Answer to what?" he said absentmindedly, somewhat ignoring her. At the direction of Pedro, Balloon laid his tremendous cranium against the feeding station's headrest, at which point Pedro inserted the feeding tube into his mouth. Balloon sucked down the semisolid foodstuffs emanating from the tube, a look of ecstasy and unbridled excitement coming over him.
"She done taste jist like Taco Villa!" he exclaimed, food dribbling down the corners of his mouth.