Balloon Boy and the Porcupine Pals: Antihooliganism

by Mort Gloss

  ****

  "Why can't we take the Coupe?" asked Tom, his words automatically translating to Zaxmorthian as he spoke.

  "Balloon's head told him we should go on foot, so quit crying," answered Russ in the same language. "Man, I hate this thing," he added, fidgeting with the translator collar wrapped around his neck. "I feel like a dog without a leash."

  Tom glanced at Rita, expecting her to confirm Russ' words. Other than hardening her expression upon meeting Tom's gaze, she had no response.

  "You ready yet, Balloon?" asked Russ, speaking to Balloon from inside the command center.

  "'Bout got her done," he answered, wiping the sweat on his face with his forearm as he entered the living room of the single-wide. "I gots a special treat for y'alls I been hidin' fer a while."

  "Scooby snacks?" asked Tom with a hopeful expression.

  "Nah, somethin' even better. I gots y'all yer own ray guns to shoot at them bandits out theres."

  "Like on Star Trek?" asked Tom.

  "Kinda like thems, I guess," said Balloon. "'Cept, these here ain't got no kill switch on 'em."

  "Not following on that one. But I wish it did have a 'kill switch.' It sounds pretty cool," said Tom.

  "He means it doesn't have the two different modes like the phasers did on Star Trek," explained Russ. "Those dudes had 'stun' mode and 'annihilate your trash' mode. Is that what you mean, Balloon?"

  "You got her figured," he answered, as he uncovered piles of supplies stored in the living room closet. "I ain't wantin' to be killin' no folks nohow on this here trip, so this here taser gun only zaps 'em good, 'n makes 'em drool, 'n knocks 'em out, 'n keeps 'em from bein' able to talk fer a bit 'n what not."

  "Well that doesn't sound so bad," laughed Tom.

  Balloon knocked over a large stack of supplies stored in the closet, strewing random gadgets and jars of peanut butter all over the living room floor. At last he emerged with a black suitcase, secured with three combination locks.

  "'Cept I can't remember the combination," he said, somewhat despondent.

  Russ walked over and took the suitcase from him. "Balloon, what are the combinations for the three locks, in order from left to right?" Balloon spit out the numbers automatically, and Russ pried open the briefcase in a matter of seconds. "Oh this is awesome," said Russ upon seeing the weapons, "epic awesome in fact."

  "I thought y'all'd like 'em," said Balloon.

  Tom walked over to Russ and peered inside the briefcase. "Whoa, those do look cool. They look familiar, too."

  "Yeah, dummy," said Russ. "These are the same design as the blasters Han Solo used in the original Star Wars movies."

  "Wait a second here," said Tom, raising one eyebrow, "you're telling me Balloon made a space gun that looks just like the space gun on Star Wars? How'd you do it, Balloon?"

  "When I's lookin' fer parts 'n what not, I seen these at that fancy toy store down next to Taco Villa, 'n these here is made a real metal 'n is sposed to be the real deal. So I jist took them theres 'n made a few changes to 'em 'n that's all she took. Purty cool, eh boys?"

  "They are cool," answered Tom. "A bit nerdy, but still cool. Do they shoot red lasers and stuff?"

  "Nah, they's gonna shoot out a burst of electricities, but they ain't the same as no tasers, 'cause they be shootin' out the front real straight-like, 'n the blast goes real far yonder."

  "So let me get this straight," said Tom, pointing at the weapons as he spoke. "They're not phasers like on Star Trek. They're not lasers. And they're not quite the same as tasers. I'm at a loss for what to call these things. It needs to sound cool, whatever it is."

  Victory, who had been digging through her endless quantities of luggage throughout the conversation, muttered "who even cares" under her breath.

  Russ ignored her. "How about 'Blast-o-Matic'?" he asked, in all seriousness.

  "That's horrendous," said Tom. He picked up one of the weapons, caressing it with his hands as he thought. "I've got it!" he said. "Taserbeam. What do you think, Balloon?"

  "Done matter much to me nohow. Whatever y'all is thinkin', Tommy."

  "And you, Russell. What do you think?"

  "Slightly less cool than 'Blast-o-Matic,' but I guess it will do."

  Tom grabbed another taserbeam and handed it to Balloon. "There's only four of these. I'm assuming Russ is going to want one, and Balloon's going to need one, since he's got the supergenius thing going, and it's obvious I need one. Who gets the fourth, Victory or Rita?"

  Victory stood up from her luggage, holding a large handbag that appeared to be stuffed with a few clothing items and random books. "I won't be needing any type of weapon," she answered.

  "Just as well," said Tom. He grabbed another gun from the briefcase by the barrel and offered it to Rita. "Rita, you feel comfortable handling your very own taserbeam?"

  Without a word, she grabbed the weapon by its handle and resolutely pointed it at Tom's forehead. "I feel fine."

  "Well then," said Tom, "I guess you won't be needing any training on how to properly handle this weapon of mass destruction."

  "And are we finished handing out the toys? Can we leave any time soon?" asked Victory, standing close to the front door.

  "We's all set to jet," answered Balloon with excitement. "We's gonna be gittin' that ball o' power in no time, 'n then gittin' back to hep yer pappy." Balloon opened the front door of the single-wide and motioned to his fellow travelers to exit. "We got us a walk yonder through this here jungle stuff, but then we's gonna come to a big 'ol place where they's keepin' her."

  Russ, Tom, Victory, and Rita each made their way out of the single-wide. Dark-blue vegetation covered the ground and sprung from trees on all sides. Breaks in the foliage revealed rolling hills in the distance. An enormous, azure sun dominated the sky, appearing to descend against the horizon. Balloon slammed the door behind them, interrupting each traveler's survey of the surroundings.

  "Let's git her done; we runnin' outta daylight, y'all," he said.

  "Lead the way, my large friend," said Tom, motioning Balloon forward. The travelers naturally formed into two distinct groups, Balloon and Victory leading, with Tom, Russ and Rita bringing up the rear. Balloon began the arduous hike through the thick bush, moving with unusual speed.

  "I've never seen Balloon speed walk," commented Tom, his breathing growing heavier with each step.

  "Maybe he knows something we don't know," said Russ.

  Rita said nothing. "You know," said Tom, "it doesn't make a lot of sense for the four of us to wear these ridiculous dog collars if you're never going to speak."

  "I have nothing to say to you, slave," answered Rita, resolute. "My purpose is to serve our Lord Protector. Anything beyond that is superfluous."

  "Rita, can I ask you a question?" said Russ.

  "Of course. I will assist you in any way possible." Tom was annoyed by her kind words to Russ.

  "Why are you so convinced that Balloon, er... our large friend up there is this 'Lord Protector' guy?"

  "He has been known to us for over 7,000 revolutions, when our most Beloved saved the galaxy by discovering the healing powers of the Protective Essence. At the conclusion of his cherished mission, he prophesied that another would come, another like unto him."

  "And what is this other person supposed to do?" asked Russ.

  "According to the chronicles of our Beloved," answered Rita, "it is understood that the other-whom we refer to as our Lord Protector-will annihilate the disconcerting plague once and for all; that he will bring certain death to that wretched illness."

  "Hold up just a second," said Tom. "Did you say 'disconcerting plague?' What is that supposed to mean?"

  "Nosebleeds, exploding heads," answered Russ before Lilia could respond, "you know, the reason we came here."

  "Oh yeah, I'm with you now," said Tom. "One more thing, what do you mean by 'certain death?'"

  "I know it is difficult for you to keep up, so I will try to keep it simple. It is said t
he Lord Protector's mission and benevolent service to Zaxmorthia is to bring a certain and resolute end to the disconcerting plague."

  As the three continued to work their way through the thick jungle, Tom moved closer to Russ, speaking so that Rita could not hear. "This is getting freaky, dude. Everybody calling Balloon 'Lord Protector;' that picture in Rita's pod; Rita saying stuff about 'certain death;' everybody worshiping him. Are we in some kind of psychological dream state created by Balloon to make himself feel better?"

  "I know what you mean," responded Russ. "It's insane. I'm starting to wonder if all this Lord Protector stuff has anything to it. What are the chances though? At first I was thinking simple coincidence, but I don't know anymore."

  "I think coincidence just went out the window," said Tom, who suddenly stopped walking and pointed to something ahead.

  Russ' jaw dropped when he saw it. Through a clearing in the thick vegetation, a massive stone statue, over 300 feet high, loomed in the distance. It depicted an extremely obese male with unkempt hair and strangely thin legs. One of his stone hands rested on his tremendous belly, while the other, outstretched in front of his body, held a circular object. "Rita," said Russ, almost in desperation, "what is that statue?"

  "That is our Beloved," she answered in a tone of devotion.

  "You mean that guy who saved the galaxy thousands of years ago?" asked Tom.

  "Of course that's what I mean, slave."