Balloon Boy and the Porcupine Pals: Antihooliganism
Page 14
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A few days later, Balloon, Tom, and Russ met at Porcupine Pipe to celebrate the completion of the single-wide. Victory, of course, said she was unable to attend, owing to the final preparations she had to make before embarking on the journey. Although they had been hard at work gathering parts and other items for the space voyage, Tom and Russ had also prepared the Porcupine Pipe warehouse for their extended trip. A new 10 foot barbed wire fence surrounded the 10 acre lot, complete with spotlights and a high tech alarm system. The actual warehouse now contained locking windows, double bolted steel doors, and bars-made of steel pipe of course-in front of every conceivable opening. The interior of the warehouse, however, remained in its dilapidated state.
"Welcome to the newly renovated Porcupine Pap!" said Tom, in his mock southern accent. "Now that we's 'a leavin' the galaxy, we done figured we needs us some fixin' ups while we's a gone."
"Well, boys, this is it," said Russ. "If we didn't have to take Victory with us, I think I might be pretty excited about this trip."
Beyond Porcupine Pipe, neither Tom nor Russ was really leaving anything behind. Both had been transplanted to the south by white-collar, oilman fathers during a petroleum boom. Russ arrived in Midland first, at the outset of his tenth grade year. The half-wit Balloon, packing a wide waistline and thick glasses, quickly became Russ' only friend. Their friendship wasn't based on common interests, but rather was more about their mutual disinterest in football. Tom came a few months later, transferring to the school midyear. He and Russ paired off, as Russ' dependence on Balloon cooled. The two were, however, always willing to let Balloon tag along, if for no other reason than to make fun of him. Balloon had hardly noticed their constant teasing. He went home every night grateful he wasn't a total outcast.
Russ had no family associations to speak of, his mother dying when he was young, and his father leaving Midland during a particularly bad oil bust. When his father left the city, he chose to stay in Midland, having already decided to go into business with Tom. His romantic life was almost as pathetic as Balloon's; he had nearly been married at the age of 25, but his would-be wife's parents halted the marriage over his fledgling business and apparent inability to support a new bride. The lack of family or romantic association made the space voyage easier for Russ; there was nothing holding him back.
Although Tom had numerous ties to west Texas, including happily married parents, several siblings, and a girlfriend here and there, he simply didn't care about leaving them all behind. A few days prior to the party at Porcupine Pipe, Tom announced to his family that he was going on an extended Mongolian vacation. "Well, I've always been really interested in the Gobi Desert," he explained. "I'll be back in a year or so." And that was it.
"Are you nervous, Balloon? After all," said Tom, "there is a distinct possibility the single-wide won't hold up with both you and Victory stomping around in there for months."
"I ain't nervous," said Balloon. "I bettin' my pappy ain't gonna like hearin' I ain't gonna be 'round for a good piece though."
"What are you going to tell him?" asked Russ.
"Well, ma momma 'n him knows I's big time into Certain Death, so I's gonna tell 'em I got me a job bein' they's roader, and that we gots to go on tours 'n what not."
"You mean a roadie?" laughed Tom.
"Sho 'nuff, that too."
"But what about the single-wide? How are you going to explain why it's gone?" said Russ.
"I ain't thoughta that part." Balloon paused, reevaluating the story he would tell his parents. After a few seconds, his face lit up. "Ain't no thang. I's jist tell 'em I needs ma single-wide to be a roader, since we's gonna be out on the road 'n stuff."
"Actually a semi-decent plan," said Tom. "But again, make sure you say 'roadie.' There's no such thing as a 'roader.' At least, not when it comes to mega-hair bands like Certain Death."
"I's got her figured."
The three space voyagers finished their celebrations at the Porcupine Pipe complex, playing Lord Protector and listening to Certain Death, all of course in Balloon's honor. Afterward, they went to Balloon's single-wide in order to christen the trailer with cheap, grocery-store bought wine. Tom offered a psuedo-sacred prayer, invoking the gods of "all religions, pagans, and sciences" to bless the single-wide on its voyage. After his short speech concluded, Russ painted the acronym "W.A.S.P." on the side of the trailer.
"Well, boys," said Russ, "the preparations are finished. Let's get this white trash spaceship in the air."
"I'm second-guessing the 'W.A.S.P.' name," commented Tom.
"Why are you telling me this now? I just finished painting it."
"I mean, 'W.A.S.P.' isn't a very good acronym for 'white trash spaceship.' Only two of the letters match up," explained Tom.
"Well, you liked it before. Plus, 'W.T.S.' doesn't quite roll of the tongue, now does it?"
"Alright fine, you win. 'W.A.S.P.' will have to do," conceded Tom. "But it still sucks."
Balloon, completely oblivious to what 'acronym' meant, began to act sentimental. "Hey, y'all. I gots to thank ya fer heppin' git everthang ready for this here voyage." Balloon paused, looking at the ground with hesitation. "But they's somethin' I gots to tell y'all...." He trailed off, still avoiding the faces of his friends.
"What is it, Balloon? You're not scared to go are you?" said Russ.
"No, I done told y'all; I ain't scared. It's jist that...well, it's that I should tell y'all that...." He again hesitated.
"Tell us what, Balloon?" asked Russ. "What's going on?"
Balloon continued to look down. Then, he closed his eyes, shook his head, as if he were saying yes to himself, and looked up at Russ. "It's jist gonna be way hard for me to say goodbye to my momma."
"Ah, Balloon," said Tom, in mock sympathy, "don't worry. Your mommy will still be here when we get back. She'll still be painting her fingernails, and your old man will still be watching wrestling. I really doubt much is going to change."
"Yeah, y'all is right," said Balloon, snuffling loudly and wiping his nose.