by Mort Gloss
Chapter 2 - Trailer Fever
Balloon and His Crew Fight Due to Boredom;
They Reach the Sombrero Galaxy
"It's because you're so fat, Balloon," laughed Tom. "There's no other scientific explanation for it."
"It's got nothing to do with the amount of human fat attached to his body," argued Russ. "Mass is the key here. He could have a huge body, completely devoid of fat, and it would still happen."
Tom shot back. "Yeah, but the 'mass' we're talking about comes from his fat. So why do you keep arguing with me?"
"Because, Tom," answered Russ, "you keep saying it's caused by Balloon's 'fat.' That's technically not true. It's his mass."
"His mass comes from his fat, you moron!"
The travelers had been voyaging through intergalactic space for 26 days, 14 hours, and 37 minutes. Whenever they needed sleep, Balloon would flip what he called the "floatin' button," suspending gravity inside the single-wide trailer. After the first 10 days or so, they began to notice a pattern: when they awoke, Balloon was always in the center of the single-wide's living room, with Victory, Tom, and Russ floating around him. Initially, they just thought it was some kind of strange coincidence. After another 10 days, however, Russ discovered what was really happening. As he awoke one day, he noticed Balloon was again in the center of the room. He sat perfectly still with his eyes open. After a few minutes, he noticed he was moving in a circle around Balloon. And that's when he realized: he, Tom, and Victory were actually orbiting Balloon, like some mini-solar system inside the trailer.
"Would you guys shut up about it?" said Victory, her eyes fixed on Emerson's Essays. As usual, she was seated on Balloon's flower couch in the living room of the single-wide. "You've been going on and on about Balloon's mass for days."
"Don't pretend you're not fascinated by it, Victory," said Russ from the kitchen, his mouth full of beef jerky.
"Yeah, after all these years you're finally realizing your life does revolve around Balloon," added Tom, laughing.
Victory shot Tom an angry glance. "I wish you idiots had figured out a way to get inside that ridiculous car you strapped to the back of the trailer," she said, recalling a conversation from what felt like months ago.
Fifteen days into the journey, Tom and Russ had become so annoyed with Victory's never-ending bad mood that they decided they would "space walk" out to the Cadillac. Unfortunately, the trailer had not been equipped with any life-protecting gear for such an adventure.
"Balloon," Tom had said, "guess how we can make space suits so we can get out of here. Either that, or guess where a black hole is so we can get rid of Victory once and for all."
"Ma head tellin' me they ain't no way I can git y'all a space jumper. They's black holes all round about us, purty much passin' by one all the time. But they ain't no way to git Victory in one without all the rest of us goin' in likewise."
Victory had flared her nostrils when Balloon actually entertained Tom's question about the black hole.
Tom was frustrated by Balloon's response. "Dude, you told me this single-wide trailer was equipped with everything we would need on this trip. I have a serious need to get away from Ms. Victoria, so why don't we have space suits?"
"Needs and wants, Thomas," said Russ, also disappointed.
"Don't worry, y'all," said Balloon, trying to compensate for his failure to prepare the single-wide for space walks, "when we make a pit stop I's gonna git y'all everthang y'all need fer space jumpin'. That way y'all can ride back there 'n what not."
Initially Victory had been somewhat excited about the prospect of Russ and Tom finding new quarters for the remainder of the journey. However, she soon realized that if they had successfully "space walked," she would be alone with Balloon in the single-wide every day. She refocused her attention on the present conversation.
"What are you planning on doing with that stupid car anyway?" she said.
"I imagine we'll be cruising on some alien planet, Victoria. You know, looking for romance and adventure," answered Tom.
"That's obvious," added Russ. "Why else does somebody own a 1973 Cadillac Eldorado Coupe, if not for romance and adventure? I mean, let's be practical, it gets horrible gas mileage and is a bear to park."
"Hey, I gots a question fer y'all," said Balloon. "Y'all thinkin' they's Tex Mex'll be as good as Taco Villa? I gots me a real hankerin' fer some Taco Villa. Maybe we'all could pick up some takeout while y'all is cruisin'."
"I'm sure their Mexican food will be every bit as good as Taco Villa. In fact, they probably call it Taco Universe!" answered Tom.
"Of course there won't be any Mexican food there, you insufferable moron," yelled Victory, standing up from the flower couch and storming into the command center. Upon reaching the doorway, she turned around and continued her diatribe. "There won't be Mexican food because there won't be Mexicans! We aren't going to earth; we're going to a different galaxy. There will be entirely different species, cultures, languages, and foods!"
"Well, there might be something like Mexican food," said Russ.
"Yeah, Mexican food sounds pretty good right now," added Tom. "If these aliens are smart enough to cure your pappy's exploding head disease, they've almost certainly developed burritos." The thought of a freshly cooked burrito made Tom's mouth water.
Balloon had a confused look on his face. He turned to Victory. "Why ain't these folks gonna have Mexican food 'n tacos 'n what not, Vic? They's whole galaxy named after some kinda sombrero, which ain't that a Mexican hat? I mean, they's gotta be a Taco Villa somewheres yonder in there if'n these aliens is all Mexican."
Victory scowled at Balloon and slammed the door to the command center.
"Wait a second, Balloon," said Russ. "You really think this entire galaxy is full of Mexicans, like some kind of galactic Mexico?"
"Well, I's ain't too sure 'bout that, but I's figurin' if'n the whole place is named after...." After a pause of a few seconds, Balloon seemed to realize that his hopes for Taco Villa, which had long been at the forefront of his mind, would not come to fruition. "Guess we's gonna have to eat some other food out theres. Maybe they least got enchiladas er somethin' likewise."
"I hope so," said Tom, moving over to Balloon and patting him on the back. "I really hope so."
Balloon's eyes became glossy and, as he spoke, his voice cracked. "I's jist hopin' fer a taco real bad."
