Balloon Boy and the Porcupine Pals: Antihooliganism by Mort Gloss
Chapter 2 - She Calls Herself Victory
Victory Rebuffs Balloon's Advances
"Hello today. Have you ever wanted to look fit and trim, and be able to wear whatever bathing suit you want at the beach? Well if so, then I am happy to introduce-"
"Who is this?"
"-the new wonder drug, Fat-Off. Fat-Off will take your existing fat, and scientifically convert it into muscle so that you won't ever be jiggly-"
"Balloon, is that you again? I keep telling you that you can't call me here. I don't want to buy any Fat-Off. It's insulting that you keep calling me at work."
"-so that you won't ever be jiggly again." Balloon finished his slow, awkward reading and remained silent. Since he began his career as a telemarketer, he had often called Victoria Gold. And before that, he had often taken remedial English courses from her at Midland College. And before that, he had called her, spied on her, and otherwise stalked her for 16 years. He loved her with an insatiable desire. She hated him with an equal passion. She called herself Victory.
"Hey, Vic. I don't think you need no Fat-Off. I jist wanted, jist wanted ... to talk to ya," stuttered Balloon. In fact, Victory did need Fat-Off, and a whole lot of it. In addition to her morbid obesity, Victory's physical appearance consisted of bright orange hair, done-up in a 1980s style mullet, pasty white skin, and coffee-stained teeth that jettisoned out of her mouth at strange angles. She spoke in a thunderous voice, distributing pain to anyone unfortunate enough to both see and hear her at the same time. Her personality was similarly horrific.
"Well I don't want to talk to you, Balloon. When are you finally going to figure out that I don't like you? Quit calling me at work; quit calling me at home; quit calling me for the rest of your life!" Although the words of Victory's speech seemed harsh, it was not the first time Balloon had heard them. Victory had expressed her dislike for him dozens of times over the years. If Balloon had more intelligence, he would have wondered why Victory rejected his advances so forcefully. After all, he was the only male on the planet earth that had ever had any desire for her. Nevertheless, Balloon's primitive mind maintained an amorphous belief that Victory was desired by several men. Although he could never identify who these men were, he was confident they were competing with him for Victory's love.
Balloon watched the Fat-Off script scroll by on his computer screen without noticing Victory had finished berating him. Suddenly, he realized she was done yelling. "Vic, I's lots different now than I used to be. I know ya think I ain't smart, 'n I knows I ain't never been able to pass any a yer classes at Midland Community, but I's been workin' real hard to git smart 'n ... well ... I reckon I's purty smart now."
Victory was surprised by Balloon's overture. In all the years he had been pursuing her, he had only expressed his love for her by stupidly saying she was "pretty." Victory audibly sighed, looking around her small, windowless office at Midland Community. Papers written by remedial English students were stacked in every available space. Victory hadn't wanted to teach incoming freshmen at Midland Community. When she graduated from the University of Texas with a Ph.D. in English, she was certain she would land a job as a professor at one of the best schools in the nation. During her graduate studies, she had shown incredible prowess in the art of literary criticism. She could take a classic piece of literature and analyze it through the various lenses of marxism, feminism, constructionism, post-constructionism, realism, formalism, modernism, post-modernism, and all manner of other "isms." Although she was a prodigy, no respectable institution of learning was willing to hire her. A few internet universities had offered her a position, but she was unwilling to waste her talent on what she considered "fake schools." Eventually, she succumbed to the need for pecuniary security, accepting a position as an instructor at Midland Community College. She regretted taking the job on a daily basis.
"Balloon, the day you're smart is the day I visit outer space. Please just leave me alone. I have a lot of papers to grade and-"
"No, I ain't a kiddin'. You can even ask Tommy 'n Russ. Thems two will tell ya the truth. Ask me anythin' 'n I can spit out the jist right answer." Balloon was confident in his new abilities, having even convinced Tom Starley. He had always believed Victory hated him because he was stupid. He was unable to decipher any other reason for her spurn. If he could just convince her he was a genius, he thought, then she would like him.
"'Ask you anything and you'll know the answer.' This is the dumbest thing I've ever heard. And having known you for over a decade, I've heard a lot," said Victory.
"Jist give her a shot, Vic. If I's wrong, I won't bug ya no more. I promise."
"Alright, alright." Victory's mind scrambled, trying to come up with some question Balloon couldn't possibly know the answer to. She wasn't excited about the guessing game. She was only excited about the possibility of getting Balloon off the phone. "I just had a conversation with someone on the phone before you called. Who was it?"
There was a short pause; Victory could hear Balloon grunting in thought on the other end of the line. "Game over, Balloon. Now leave me alone." Victory began hanging up the phone when she heard Balloon yell through the receiver.
"Yer pappy! You was talkin' to yer pappy. And... y'all talked 'bout goin' to the doctor on account a yer pappy ain't feelin' so good, 'n 'bout him seein' visions a you in the night, 'n what not." Balloon waited patiently after submitting his guess. He stared at the Fat-Off dialogue on his computer screen, which was now stuck on "obtain credit card information."
"You pervert! Did you seriously wiretap my office?" Victory was enraged. She began scattering papers from the corners of her cinder block box, trying to find a hidden camera or a secretly placed microphone.
"No, I ain't spyin'. I done told ya; I knows lotsa stuff now."
"I'm not an idiot, Balloon," she screamed. "I've thought about getting a restraining order before, but I always held back because I thought you were a harmless oaf. This time you've gone too far. Tell me how you tapped into my phone call." Her booming voice was too much for the phone line, distorting as it came through on Balloon's end.
"Vic, I ain't no spy. I ain't got no techno whiz gadgets," he pled. "Give me another chance. Ask me somethin' that weren't over the phone."
Victory gave up her search for the supposed surveillance equipment. Just as Russ had perceived that Balloon was not lying, Victory began to wonder whether he was speaking the truth. After all, she thought, Balloon had never been one to tell a lie. He had always been too stupid to play those games with her. She quickly abandoned this thought, turning to her earlier theory of electronic stalking.
"Alright, Balloon. I don't believe you. But I know you couldn't have wiretapped my office; at least, not alone. So, what kind of symptoms has my dad had?" Victory was certain Balloon wouldn't know the answer to her question. Her father had only told her what was ailing him the day before. Plus, he hadn't told her over the phone, or at her house. Instead, the conversation had taken place in his 1980s era Buick, one of the only vehicles he had ever owned in which his daughter fit comfortably.
Balloon was silent on the other end of the phone. After clearing his mind, he ventured a guess. "Fer the past week, yer pappy has woke up with a nosebleed ever mornin'. And them nosebleeds weren't no small ones. It done took him a whole roll a TP to git 'em stopped ever time. And yesterday, the blood were spewin' everwheres, 'n scared him good. And then he done told ya 'bout some visit ya gave him in the night a few weeks back, but you says it ain't real, since ya wasn't over yonder to his place."
"Balloon, this is sick and wrong. Are you spying on him too? I don't get it. Why can't you just leave me alone?"
"Ain't it the truth?"
"No, you're not wrong, and you know it. Don't call me again, and quit following me and my family around."
"But-"
Victory disconnected the phone. She had always enjoyed a certain satisfaction in hanging up on Balloon, but this time the feeling was different. Leani
"Porcupine Pipe, here to satisfy all your pipe needs. What can I do for you today?" said a voice on the other end of the line.
"I need to speak to Tom Starley."
"If it's a pipe product you're calling about, I can help you ma'am. We specialize in all sorts of pipe: plumbing pipe, water pipe, oil pipe, sprinkler pipe, sewer pipe, gas pipe, big pipe, small pipe. Whatever you need, we're here to help."
"I don't need your pipe. I need Tom Starley. It's urgent. Now get him on the phone."
"If you're calling about a return, I would like to remind you that all pipe products are sold 'as is,' meaning there are no warranties and no returns. Are you having a problem with previously purchased pipe? If so, I can help you fill out a new order form."
"I didn't buy pipe. I don't need pipe. And if I ever had to buy a pipe, I wouldn't buy it from you. Get me Tom Starley now!" Victory pounded her fist on the all-metal desk in her office as she spoke.
"Hold while I transfer. It's been a pleasure assisting you with your pipe needs today ma'am." Before Victory could curse the receptionist, she heard Tom Starley's familiar voice.
"This is Tom."
"Tom Starley. Still selling second-rate pipe to the unsuspecting masses, I see?" Victory had always hated Tom, and Tom had always hated Victory.
"Oh, dear Victoria. What a pleasure to hear from you. Were you in need of a pipe product today?"
"I don't get it, Tom. You're a somewhat intelligent person, or at least you've always come off that way. Same with Russ. When are you two going to give up the pipe business and get real jobs?"
"Victoria, this is the work of my life. I was born to sell pipe. You could say it's in my blood. Plus, I just love the way the yokels down here in Texas say the word pipe. You know: 'I need me some pap, boy. You sell water pap?' What could be better than hearing the word 'pap' 100 times a day?"
"Whatever, Tom; your life is a joke."
"Thank you, I appreciate your concern. And with that, I suspect we've reached the purpose of your call. Sure you won't be needing any 'pap' before I hang up?"
"I don't need pipe." Victory hesitated a few seconds, worried her next statement would come out wrong. "I need to ask you something about Balloon."
"Finally coming around are you? Well good. I'm sure that whatever you were going to ask, the answer is yes. Yes, he told me he likes you. Yes, he'll go out with you. Yes, he'll marry you. And yes, he wants to have gigantic children with you. Yes, Victoria, is the answer."
"Shut it, Tom. You know I can't stand him. And you know he calls me all the time. But today he called me and said something kind of weird. He told me to ask him anything and he would know the answer. I thought it was a pretty bold move, considering how stupid he is. Anyway, I asked him a few questions, and he was right every time."
Tom laughed nervously. "What did you ask him about? The nuances of gender theory, as evidenced in the writings of Amelia Opie? I'm sure he delivered a smashing discourse on that topic."
"It wasn't about class. He's not allowed to take my courses anymore; you know that. I asked him a few questions about my dad, things there was no way he could know about. And he seemed to know all the details." Victory didn't say anymore. She didn't want to sound impressed by Balloon's knowledge.
"Whoa now, Victoria. Balloon finally mustered up the courage to ask your dad if he can take you on a date? That's great news. I knew there must be something holding up the relationship, but I could never put my finger on it."
"I'm serious, Tom. Balloon knew some really personal things about my dad." She was pleading for an explanation.
"Alright, Victory. Let's be genuine for a minute. For the past couple of weeks, I've been really worried about my buddy Balloon. He's been saying crazy things about you, talking about how he can't live without you, and that he'll do anything to be with you, etcetera. Well anyway, I showed up at his single-wide before he got home from TeleMarx one day, and I noticed he had all this audiovisual equipment shoved away in his pantry. Turns out the old boy has the Victory Cable Network, and you're the star on every channel." Tom lied with careful precision. He had his own plans for Balloon's new abilities, and they didn't include Victory.
Victory was silent. She didn't believe Tom was telling the truth, but she was unable to come up with an alternate explanation. "How would Balloon know how to set all that stuff up? How would he get the microphones and cameras around me?"
"I don't know, Victory, but I do know this. You should just stay away from him. Quit leading him on; quit giving him any hope there's a chance between you two. The guy's harmless; he just really wants to be with you. I think the best thing you can do is never talk to him again. In a few weeks, he'll take the hint and close down the surveillance center." Tom smiled as he spoke, perceiving Victory's attitude toward Balloon for the first time. Did she dislike Balloon? Most definitely. Tom knew it was true. But what he hadn't realized until this moment was that Victory-despite her distaste for him-depended on Balloon. She needed him to call and harass her; she couldn't survive without his constant chasing. With no Balloon, Tom thought, Victory would fall into an abyss of absolute loneliness. With no Balloon, Victory would live in a world where nobody cared about her. This revelation amused Tom at first, but soon began to trouble him. "Victory, you just can't talk to him. Don't answer the phone when he calls from work. If you see him around town, you have to completely ignore him. I'll work on him from my end. Don't worry, I'll get him to stop stalking you."
"Tom Starley, you better not be lying to me. I know Balloon couldn't pull this off by himself. Did you help him with any of this?"
"Victoria, my dear. I know we've always shared a special connection, but I would never pursue my desires in such a fashion. When it's our time, I'll approach you directly."
"You're a worthless human being, Tom. Is Russ around? Maybe he'll give me a straight answer."
"Unfortunately, Russell is delivering 'pap' to some of our best customers in Ozona. He couldn't care less about the customers. But he loves to go to Ozona and eat at 'Bryan's Poco Taco.' Excellent fare, Victory; ever heard of it?"
"I hate Mexican food. Okay, Tom; I have to go. I'll do what you said. I'm not even going to so much as acknowledge Balloon's existence. But if I find out he's still stalking me I'm calling the police. I'll send them after you too."
"Understood, Victoria. I respect your decisions. But know this... I have always... loved you."
Victory hung up the phone. She filled up the lazy boy in the corner of her office and began grading essays: "Me and Dad started ruff-neckin in summers when I was 13 years old. Then, last summer, my dad's hand was cut off while we was on the rig. That's when I decided education was write for me...." Victory had trouble concentrating on the essay. She wondered why Tom had told her to stay away from Balloon. She knew Tom had always reveled in Balloon's constant chasing, encouraging it whenever possible. Tom was up to something, and she was determined to find out what it was.